belgianwaffle

Part the second


Posted in: The tale of Lazy Jack Silver

A shot rang out in the bar.  LJS felt the bullet go by ruffling his glossy chestnut locks.  People screamed and fell to the floor but he remained immobile.  He knew that bullet had his name on it but he was sure that the assasin wouldn’t risk a second shot.  He had been a target before. Many times. Hhis three jobs were just part of his cover.  He was an agent of the underground movement for a free People’s Republic of Cork.  The police arrived. They immediately gravitated to LJS; with his chiselled jaw and calm air, he had an imposing presence. “Did you see anything?”

“No, but it was aimed at me. I think it could be one of my former lovers who lives in Switzerland.”  “That’ll teach her to get all ratty about a stupid cat”  he thought bitterly.  He supposed that in setting the police on Heather who lived, to all appearances, at least, a blameless life,  he had been cruel.  But she had been cruel to him and LJS was not in the mood to forgive.

“Excuse me sir, but would you like to see a counsellor?” asked an apologetic policeman.

Counsellor pah, thought LJS, I eat counsellors for breakfast.

“We have Jojo available…” the policeman interrupted his thoughts.

Ah, well, if it was the lovely Jojo, perhaps he would see a counsellor after all.  Rumour had it that Jojo had settled down to a life of blissful domesticity with husband and baby, but LJS had thought of an exciting new pun that he felt Jojo might enjoy…

*Author’s note. I am very poor at puns – can someone help me out here?

Comments
belgianwaffleon 29 September 2004 at 22:16

A pun perhaps?

on 29 September 2004 at 22:34

Naturally Heather had ensured that she was highly visible at a Raclette dinner with Phil Collins in downtown Geneva when the shot rang out. Perhaps it was sentimentality that had persuaded her to wear the 15 carat diamond necklace that evening; or perhaps she knew that such a fabulous jewel on the neck of such a glamorous woman would ensure maximum publicity in the international press.

silverettaon 29 September 2004 at 22:35

Now you’re making me look stupid.
Of course, now you have actually posted a story you have made me look rather sexy too, which is much closer to the real me. How did you know about the chestnut locks though?

dmtson 29 September 2004 at 22:55

I thought waffle was very kind, silver – after all, she is making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear with the three of you. Fortunately she has got a wonderful female protagonist.

silverettaon 29 September 2004 at 22:58

Yes, I’m looking forward to JoJo turning up.

dmtson 29 September 2004 at 23:03

so you can show off your punning technique?

silverettaon 29 September 2004 at 23:08

I wouldn’t call it a technique exactly – more a gift.

jackdaltonon 30 September 2004 at 00:58

You know, I actually heard my own voice when I read the ‘I eat counsellors for breakfast’ bit…And the one time in my life I was actually shot at I didn’t move for a good ten seconds because I didn’t actually realise what was happening…. so now, I’m really rattled. 🙂
A fictional character becomes one third of a further fictional character.. it’s all a bit too postmodern….
And what do you mean, sow’s ear…

belgianwaffleon 30 September 2004 at 11:00

Hello protagonists. Based on her brilliant contribution to the text so far, I have asked HJB to be a contributor. Not quite sure how that works technically but am hopeful that all will be well. Am also hopeful that HJB can pun.

dmtson 30 September 2004 at 11:20

it’s worked, waffle – we are so technical – official.

poggleon 30 September 2004 at 12:31
(
Comment Modified) Shouldn’t that have read:”… but he remained nomobile …”??
Locoteson 03 October 2004 at 19:36

This Heather character seems a right handful. Violent and sarcastic, a nasty combination. Reminds me of someone around here, I just can’t place my finger on it…Mentioning both my jaw and Cork deserves special recognition – bravo!

Part the first


Posted in: The tale of Lazy Jack Silver

Lazy Jack Silver was tall.  A little too tall perhaps.  He liked to drawl in his singsong Cork accent ““Boy, IÂ’’m tall and I’Â’m proud”.” He was also excellent at puns.  He sauntered into a bar anxious to pick up an Oxford graduate research student.  But he was a little tense.  He was in a long distance relationship with a girl in Dublin. Also there was the risk of putting his relationship with Heather in jeopardy.  “Although” he reflected wryly “ his recent flat sitting seemed to have soured things”.  And then there was the enigmatic Pog, would he ever meet her or would he just end up sitting in bars in exotic places, his eyes full of tears and his evenings ruined?  He tried to put that behind him.  His work allowed him to travel to exotic destinations where he could try to forget.  Working on a newspaper with a lecturing job on the side and (um silver, what is it you do?) meant that his every waking minute was filled with excitement and adventure.  People envied him his glamourous lifestyle, he supposed. But he had his own private tragedies, would he ever forget the bitter evening in August when Bolton beat his beloved Liverpool 1 – 0? And then there was the tormented relationship with the Skinny Within.  Ah, better not to think of it.  He scanned the bar looking for distraction….

Comments
belgianwaffleon 29 September 2004 at 11:19

Oh good, can you continue the story? I’m running out of inspiration and I can’t help feeling that it needs a bit of menace.

jackdaltonon 29 September 2004 at 11:27

I don’t like this. The name is all wrong. And when Locotes sees it, you’re in deep dodo. He’ll sort out your langerish behaviour…..
[But I’d give it a sweet if I hadn’t used the last one on the plane home from Crete.]

dmtson 29 September 2004 at 11:28

do you mean menace as in menace the blogger, or menace as in HJB ripping lazy jack silver’s head off because he wrecked her flat?

belgianwaffleon 29 September 2004 at 11:41
(
Comment Modified) Jack, I know you love it really. HJB, I don’t really know Menace the blogger so I’m looking more for head ripping but I’m afraid it can’t happen immediately because then our hero would be dead and the story would be over. Would you like to feature as a basic instinct type person? In exchange for that sweetie, I think we can pretty much write you up as you’d like. Get back to me.
dmtson 29 September 2004 at 11:53

okay – I won’t rip his head off straight away – we can go for a bit of torture first. I love the idea of being a Basic Instinct type of person but can I keep my knickers on?

silverettaon 29 September 2004 at 15:43

I always saw myself as more of an action hero than that. I suppose that’ll be the influence of the other two though – slowing down my natural dynamism.

poggleon 30 September 2004 at 12:29

‘enigmatic’?
I’m proud of that.
Very proud.

Locoteson 03 October 2004 at 19:32

I was involved in a bit of a hunt for this until I saw the new category. How exciting! I wasn’t sure how happy I was about my own contribution to the character’s name – but at the same time it’s a pretty accurate representation, so I can’t complain.
Strangely enough I’ve just finished watching my lot lose to Chelsea 1-0, so your post is quite poignant. Private tragedy indeed.

Feckless brother


Posted in: Siblings

My brother is one of these people who always lands on his feet.  Even though he’s feckless. Very feckless. He was in London with a friend recently and he left his wallet on a table at the entrance to an art exhibition.  He decided that it was bound to be whipped so he went up to a random policeman to ask where he should go to report it lost and yer man looked at him asked him his name and where he lost it.  Inevitably some virtuous londoner had just given it to the policeman and he handed it over. How lucky is that?

However, got this mail from him yesterday: “”Lost my damn phone on Friday, left it on the roof of my car with my wallet and drove off- Aaaarrrrggghie. Unlike you I haven’t found that the absence of a mobile phone has had a liberating effect on the spirit.  Will probabally get a new one tomorrow.” Or he could just wait until someone drives round to his house to give him back the old one.

Comments
NorahSplog

on 28 September 2004 at 15:18

Brothers were invented purely to be slightly too lucky, and sisters were invented so brothers had someone to crow to.

silveretta

on 28 September 2004 at 15:52

That’s what my sister says about me. No – wait a minute. That’s something else.

Friar Tuck

on 29 September 2004 at 05:18

And he probably doesn’t even attend Mass every Sunday, with or without a restless child. It just ain’t fair!

on 29 September 2004 at 10:49

HJB, the Swiss, you have to admire them..
Norah, accurately observed.
Silver, you might say that, I couldn’t possibly comment.
FT, of course, he doesn’t go to mass every Sunday, in fact he only goes when he’s in Cork for the w/end and my mother gets him out with a cattle prod.

The genesis of Lazy Jack Silver


Posted in: The tale of Lazy Jack Silver

Comments

jackdaltonon 27 September 2004 at 18:00Oh good. Does this mean we can look forward to a higher standard of blogging around here? 😐
belgianwaffleon 28 September 2004 at 15:04Silver, s’pose so. Jack, I dunno, shortly I might try to craft a character based on a cross between yourself, Silver and Locotes. This is one of the exciting exercises suggested (ok, no, you three don’t get namechecked, but I think you see what I’m getting at here).
silverettaon 28 September 2004 at 17:38Lazy Jack Silver – sounds pretty good to me. Or perhaps Jack’s Silver Log. Or Laughably Flatter Jack.
jackdaltonon 29 September 2004 at 00:39I will only agree with this exercise going ahead if it’s about Jack Locoretta – six foot five, far more cultured that you thought, and not from Cork.
belgianwaffleon 29 September 2004 at 10:18OOOH! Has to be Lazy Jack Silver.

Massgoing


Posted in: Princess

Yesterday the Princess and I went to mass on our own. We got the tram in and a nice old lady chatted to her until she (the Princess) managed to get her foot under the lady’s skirt and kick it up in the air.  Got off the tram in some relief. Went into the church. Princess immediately began scurrying round. Dragged her back to our pew where she grabbed the Sunday paper I had purchased and began to demolish it. Rescued the paper and stuck it up under an angel’s wing. Princess pointed imperiously at string bag on the back of the buggy. “Bockle, bockle”. Gave her the bottle which she proceeded to turn upside down and drip on the floor. Removed bottle. Gave some brief thought to the Gospel on Lazarus and Dives. Princess went back to the string bag and said “Waisin, waisin”. “What?” “Waisin, waisin!!” Removed box of raisins and gave them to her, she chucked them in the air in delight and the next five minutes saw me on my hands and knees trying to beat her to the raisins on the church floor.  Middling success. She didn’t eat quite all of them. She then squatted down, went purple in the face and made a groaning noise. I departed and took her to a nearby cafe to change her. To be honest, I would have abandoned mass at that point except that I realised that the paper was still back there stuck under the angel’s wing. So back we went. When we emerged there was a tram outside so we lept on joyfully only to discover that the lady whose skirt the Princess had kicked in the air was there too. A little frostiness. Arrived home in a state of advanced collapse.

Brocante


Posted in: Belgium

Today there is a brocante near where we live. The roads are blocked off and our neighbours have laid out their unwanted goods in front of their houses. Oh I love brocantes. So far we have purchased:

– a dress for the Princess (2 euros)

– minature wooden table and chairs for the Princess (10 euros)

– plastic yoke on wheels for the Princess to push around (2 euros)

– waffle for the Princess – no Belgian gathering is complete without a waffle van (1.50)

And we’re going to be going back this afternoon.

In future we’ll probably stay away from the neighbour who was offering the following tomes for sale:

“Children and violence”

“Fathers who don’t know how to love”

“Bad parents make bad children”

Charitable Mr. Waffle offers the following suggestions – psychiatrist, review copies or, if they’re selling, then they’ve obviously resolved their issues. Or, the children have moved out of home or are in prison.

Comments
jackdaltonon 26 September 2004 at 11:33

The kids a few houses up did something like that a while back (without the road blocks and the waffle van). All sorts of bargains were to be had, including a knock-down price first edition of a children’s novel that I loved as a kid.
Sadly, no one told the dad…
I reluctantly gave it back when he came round with that totally devestated what kids can do to you look in his eyes.

belgianwaffleon 27 September 2004 at 11:09

Beth, we don’t really have an equivalent in Ireland, so I don’t know whether you have either in America. It’s a bit like a flea market, I suppose. By the by, really enjoyed your story about the cat pee.
Jack, that’s tragic. What was the book?

jackdaltonon 27 September 2004 at 18:11

The Silver Branch by Rosemary Sutcliff. I used to see myself as a kind of out-of-time Evicatos of the Spear!!!

belgianwaffleon 28 September 2004 at 15:06

Ooh, must rush out and buy.

dmtson 28 September 2004 at 15:06

we have Brocante too here but being Swiss it’s called Broci.

belgianwaffleon 28 September 2004 at 15:07

Is this because Swiss French is a little odd? No smart comments about Belgian French, please.

dmtson 28 September 2004 at 15:09

it’s even odder than that, waffle – it’s a classic example of swiss german.