No Sense And Nonsense
A bit of stuff by: Jonathan Antony Strickland
INTRO
Just a quick introduction for a few light-hearted pieces I have written and decided to compile together here. This includes poems, riddles and a short silly story-like-thing called “The Egg”. And a short story entitled "Fucked (well and truly)"
POEMS
The poems need little explanation, though the poem entitled “Dragon” is perhaps the oldest thing I have found to place here. It was composed many many moons ago. I believe I was about twelve when I wrote it, and although it is but a mere three lines I still have a soft spot for it. Other poems are more current, and can best be described as “a bit of daftness to hopefully amuse the odd dreamer like myself”.
RIDDLES
Riddle 1 and riddle 2 where written when I was around fifteen (though I have added a little bit more to riddle 1 to make it a bit easier to solve). As for the others, I wrote these on nights when I was accompanied by large tasty bottles of cheap (though potent) red and white wines.
Below each of the riddles is the answer, though I have purposely hidden it in the simplest of ways. To get the answer all you have to do is to alphabetically minus one from the letter from the jumble of nonsense described as the answer to the riddle. Thus B would become A, C would become B, and so on and so forth.
So if the answer to a riddle was “FROG” then the answer described below the riddle would be “GSPH”. The F becoming a G, the R an S, O a P, and the G a H.
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Intro to “The Egg”
When reading “The Egg” you might come to the conclusion that this is the biggest pile bollicks you have ever had the misfortune of reading. And indeed you would probably be right. But there is an explanation for its being, and knowing this may improve it for what it is!
“The Egg” came about a few years ago when I used to play a free online poker game. Whilst playing the game a small chat-window could be used to converse with fellow players, discussing bluffs, hands played and folded, tactics used, the meaning of life, why do fools fall in love, do donkeys enjoy wearing hats, is smoking lettuce leaves good for you, if a tree falls in a wood and nobody witnesses said falling should we then make up some profound bollicks just for the hell of it…etc…etc. This however was rarely the case. What usually would happen was some arsehole (who considered himself the greatest of the great) would join a table and mock everyone else in their own un-unique way. Indeed, this very un-unique way was something done by a million other arseholes who no doubt thought about their own alleged greatness in a like-wise manner.
This so-called mockery involved questioning players sexual preferences, colour, and various sizes and shapes of a certain part of the anatomy, plus a host of other lame-brained waffle put-downs that they felt needed to be shared with the table of players.
My reply to these individuals was to start by telling them the story of “The Egg”. This may seem a little strange but as I pasted line after line into the chat-window the resulting confusion to the surreal conversation of two people discussing “The Egg” was in itself worth it.
On one such occasion I can remember one of the said arseholes (as I’ve mentioned above) actually got so confused that his only repost was to question my sanity (followed by my sexual preferences for sheep). Then as he released that his words where falling on deaf ears, and the only reply to his “witty” comments where from further lines from “The Egg”, he upped and left the table, taking with him his un-unique commentary as he went.
So…To sum up…The moral of the story is this…Never…I repeat NEVER underestimate the power of “The Egg”.
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The Egg
By: Jonathan Antony Strickland
……..
You have the egg?
Yes I have the egg
So where is it, let me touch it. Let me see the egg
You need not see it, nor may thee touch it, let it be, the egg is safe with me
Give me the egg
You may not have the egg as I do not know what you may do with it
GIVE ME THE EGG!!!!!
No….Take comfort that the egg is safe......safe with me.
GIVE ME THE FUCCCCCKKKINNNNGGG EGG.
Up yours, the egg is mine.
ARRRGGGHHHHHHH.....I want the egg. Just let me see it. Touch it. Hold it......GIVE ME THE EGG TWATFACE.
I can't give you the egg.
WHHHHHYYYYYY…why oh why....give me the egg.......please please, I beg thee. I...I take back what I said before. I'm sorry, so very very sorry that I called thee a twatface. But I beg of thee, give me the egg.
Hmmmm....I see now how desperate you are to get the egg. And I feel within the tones of thy voice that you bear no malice towards the egg.
Malice....no....God no. I would never hurt the egg. I would rather stamp on kittens, drop kick puppies, or play a game of subueto using live gerbils as players and a spiked metal ball with tiny writing on it saying "fuck all gerbils" than hurt the egg. So please, on my hands and knees I beg thee.....give...give me the egg.
If I could give thee the egg, then I would give thee the egg....but alas I cannot....I cannot give thee the egg.
WHYYYYYYyyyyy......why can't you give me the egg.....surely the egg is for everyone....the egg is everything and all. Wholesome and good, mighty yet sleek, sturdy but fragile.
The egg is not everything and all....the egg is an egg.
HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF THE EGG BEING BUT AN EGG. Now I see you for what you are. And I know now how you feel. You never loved the egg, did you. You never dream of the egg, think of the egg with every living breath you take.....HA....YES…I do know thee. Oh yes, I know thee very well, and let me tell you. You are a twatface after all...Give me the egg NOW or you’ll regret it.
Regret not giving you thee the egg. Why should I regret not giving you thee the egg?
BECAUSE IF YOU DO NOT GIVE ME THE EGG THEN I WILL TWIST OFF YOUR NOSE, THEN CUT OFF YOUR STUPID FUCKING EARS AND SELOTAPE THEM TO YOUR ARSE AND BALLS!!!!!
Hmmmm….Taking into account this threat and all you have said I still cannot give you thee the egg.
You make no sense......why, oh WHY, oh why, can you not give me the egg.....speak now or forever hold thy yolk.
I cannot give you thee the egg because I have eaten the egg....for my breakfast (with three rashers of bacon, a sausage, two slices of toast, a dabble of ketchup, and of course a steaming hot pot of lovely golden tea).......and very tasty it was as well.
ARRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.......GRRRRRRRRRRR.....FNNAAARRRRRRRR.....ARRRRR.....the egg is gone.....NNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!NOOOOOOO…NO…no.. … … .. . no! The egg be gone and all that is wholesome and good is gone with it...We are now nothing....We are....DOOMED!
Doomed…Doomed you say…Don’t be so fucking daft. After all, it was only a bloody egg!
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WARNING!
I FEEL I MUST POINT OUT THAT NOT ALL STORIES TOLD BY ME CONTAIN EGGS
I AM SORRY IF THIS CAUSES ANY STRESS OR PAIN. MY ONLY SUGGESTION TO YOU IS THAT YOU SEEK FURTHER PLEASURES THAT DO NOT INCLUDE EGGS.
THOUGH HOW ANYONE COULD TAKE ANY KIND OF PLEASURE FROM SOMETHING THAT DOESN'T INVOLVE EGGS IS BEYOND ME!
You have been warned!
THE END
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Riddle 1
By: Jonathan Antony Strickland
I sit above your head when all is lost
A cold gray sentinal telling the world all about you
Surrounded by my fellow comrades
I wait, silent and still
; What am I?
ANSWER: hsbwftupof
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DRAGON
By: Jonathan Antony Strickland
If you see the dragons cave, you must not go inside
If you see the dragon, you must run away and hide
If you see the dragons mouth, then your head will be inside
THE END
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Riddle 2
By: Jonathan Antony Strickland
In some countries I am conisdered the greatest of all jewels
But once lost, I can never be regained
What am I?
Answer: wjshjojuz
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A Stolen Song
by: Jonathan Antony Strickland
Where have all the zombies gone?
Gone to heaven everyone!
Who now will I use my shotgun on?
Who will I use my shotgun on!
Wrote this song last night. Then from out of the blue (pardon the pun but it was a big blue box), some guy with a bad perm and overly long multi-coloured scarf, claiming to be some kind of medicine man in a booming voice, jumps out and grabs those very lyrics out of my hand and before I could say "Hey! Come back with my song lyrics you time travelling git!", he travels back to the 1960s and hands the lyrics over to some American geezer, who has the audacity to change them into some namby-pamby soft pop song....Grrrr.
Top of Form
Where have all the flowers gone? Doesn't even make any bloody sense! Double Grrrr, with a smothering of Grrrrr on top.
The End
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The Unvicious Circle Of Silliness
By: Jonathan Antony Strickland
:- A tale was told, a tale to me, a tale on a summers night
The knight was brave, and tall, and grave, and fought for all things right
So I turned this right, and turned this left, and headed off happy and homeward-bound
But as the rope bound tight about my legs, I fell down hard-upon the ground
So I ground up the grain within my dish, and sold it for a nice new shiny pound
And as I did approach the canine pound of yelps and barks and howls, a little dog inside a cage looked sad, then looked up at me and wagged his tail
A tale was told, a tale to me, a tale on a summers night
The knight was brave, and tall, and grave, and fought for all things right -:
THE END
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Riddle 3
By: Jonathan Antony Strickland
Like a proffesional spy I mark your every step
Clinging to your every move
Then like some scheming murderous stalker I cover up the evidence
No doubt sending a cold tingle down your spine as I go about my buisness
What am I?
Answer: Topxgbmm
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Stupid Bloody Bollicks
by: Jonathan Antony Strickland
Night
Bright
Sunlight
I’ll wash out your ears with a carving knife
Then I’ll bring back rudeness, make foulness shine
Eat an evil turnip that once boasted a spine
...
Eat
Meat
Treat
I’ll wage war on your granny with neon toads of shite
Then I’ll beat-up hatred, make beauty cry
Drink from a stone boulder that once quoted a lie
...
Drink
Sack
Attack
I’ll dance my jig as I spit on your destiny
Then I'll stand on fear, as I march over ten thousand men
Award a gold medal to a gormless old hen
...
Award
Drop
Stop
I'll cry tears of venom into your bloodstream
Then I'll fart the fandango, while applauding the one sock
Jump on a black-hole that's been cooked in a wok
...
Jump
Thin
Win
I'll scratch your head on a nails of blackest white teeth
Then I'll sleep on a fish tank, fowl, green and rotten
Then I’ll be done, and all will be forgotten
THE END
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Riddle 4
By: Jonathan Antony Strickland
What cums over your mother twice a day?
Answer: Sgd rdz. Enq lnsgdq dzqsd hr sgd lnsgdq sn tr zkk.
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Fucked (well and truly)
by: Jonathan Antony Strickland
In a darkened corner of a dingy old pub a man sat dressed in a long black raincoat, wearing a large brimmed red hat above his long gray nylon false beard and black sunglasses. It was pretty plain to see to anyone observing the man as he sipped his whisky on the rocks and typed on an old blue type-writer that he was clearly in heavy disguise. But who this man was and why he was in disguise is something that no one here will ever know (That’s right nobody. Not even yours truly, and I’m the one writing this nonsense).
All we do know is that the man in question is very very important. And we can only surmise as to what position of power he holds, be it a king, a President or Prime-minister, perhaps even a religious leader or leading scientist, or someone who has simply found themselves in the position to have their finger on the big red button.
Make your own mind up...GOD DAMN IT!
But as he sat and typed, what I can tell you is that below are the words he wrote:
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Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Oh fuckedy, fuckedy, fuck fuck. FUCK!
Things are fucked. Things are mega fucked. I've really gone and fucked things up this time. Fucked things up big time.......oh Fuck!
Things are looking so fucked that I could continue and use the word fuck or fucked throughout the next ten to twenty thousand words that this whole story will take to tell, that one word repeated over and over again would be a very good way to describe what I've just gone and done. That's how fucking bad things really are!
Instead though I might as well go on and tell you how and why I've fucked things up. Fucked things up not only for me though understand, but for you as well. And everyone you know. And anyone they might know. Plus everybody else in this big fucking world of ours. Before I start I would just like to say sorry and apologise to everybody on the planet whose lives are going to end in the most miserable and painful way possible that you, me or anybody else could ever possibly dream of imagining.
And all of this, all the forthcoming pain and terror, the disaster and the disease, followed by the slow lingering death, all because of what I've done. My fault….Mine!!!!
All of it, all my fault. At this moment I realise you haven't a clue as to what I am wittering on about. All now will be explained, though it will be hard for me to admit all truths to you. I'm so…so ashamed of what I’ve done.........So very, very sorry!
It all started several days ago when I.................Hey, hang on one god damned fucking minute here. What am I saying sorry for? I know it’s my fault, but it’s done now. And repenting my sins and apologizing to the likes of you isn't gonna make one fucking jot of difference. In 'fact by the time your reading this you're going to be so near to death that nothing matters anyway and the recounting of this story and how I've gone and brought on the downfall of civilization, and with it me, you, and the rest of the human race will be completely pointless and a waist of the precious few meagre hours I've got left.
(Ha Ha)…So instead of an apology, spending several long painful drawn out hours moping over this type-writer, crying to you over my one big mistake. The mistake which means people like you will be nothing soon but a bloody awful pulp of rotting diseased flesh festering away in the early morning summer sun for the beasts, bugs and buzzards to feast on. Instead of saying all that, I would instead like to take this opportunity and the time I have left to tell
you all to FUCK RIGHT OFF!
THE FUCKING END
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They Call Me Randy Stodgeflaps
By: Milthy Swinebuckle
They call me Randy Stodgeflaps
I have such a wicked chin
And above my chin
Sits a wicked grin
Which unfolds and becomes perverse
They call me Randy Stodgeflaps
My cat sat on the mat
But the mat was wet
So the cat did fret
Which made the dog say “Well how about that!”
They call me Randy Stodgeflaps
I like to exercise
Sometimes on a bike
Or perhaps a long hike
It’s no wonder I have such excellent thighs
They call me Randy Stodgeflaps
I can drink anyone under the table
Unless I drink beer
In which case – OH DEAR!
I put on a dress and call myself Mable