Thursday, June 15, 2006

Today's prep - a 1000 word composition.

My old friend Tom has taken time off from his job as fiction reviewer in “Sheep Gelding Fortnightly” to request more literary discussion here.

My old friend Mark has suggested that readers should abandon me and head over to Boris’s page to tell him what a buffoon he is.

My new friend David has shown an interest in Coleridge.

My new friend Pavlov has read every book ever published.

Someone, I think it was Raincoaster, said that they seriously disliked the works of Mr Fforde.

In the face of this obvious gap, I submit the following subject for discussion.

“The Poet Keats: Twat or what?”


Dave said...


Vicus Scurra said...

I said "The poet Keats: twat or what?"

Pamela Troeppl said...

Are you sure you want to know?

tom909 said...

Vicus, do I even need to answer this one. How can a poet not be a twat!

Vicus Scurra said...

Pamela, you are professional writer, what is your view on "Ode on a Grecian Urn"?
Tom, there was me building you up to be a bestower of wisdom about the written word, and you give a trite, simplistic answer.
None of you have got anywhere near the 1000 word mark yet.
I can see that I will have to get my punishment book out. And not the one by Keats.

Carmenzta said...

"Ode ON a Grecian Urn?" Sounds painful.

My vote: twat

Also I thought Tom's answer was direct and to the point. Two great qualities...

Dave said...

I didn't say 'what?'. I said 'what'. 999 more words to expand upon my answer follow as soon as I've finished rescuing this fallen lady.

tom909 said...

A thousand words where ten will do. Who do you think I am, fucking Shakespeare.

raincoaster said...

Twas indeed raincoaster who announced a serious allergy to the works of Mr. FfuckingtweeImeanfford.

As a professional writer I of course want to know whether you pay by the word or by the finished article. A thousand words...I'm not sure you can afford us.

I refer, of course, not only to the other posters here but to all the many voices in my head.

Pamela Troeppl said...

You have voices too? Splendid. I'm not the only one then.

Of course I didn't start hearing them until I 'met' Tom and Vicus.

And being a professional writer, I'd never call anyone the T word.

Mark Gamon said...


Vicus Scurra said...

The T word? Tom? Is he that bad?

Interpreter Pavlov said...

Or what, definitely. The twat - in the strict sense of the word - Keats was most interested in, although I'm not certain that he ever got near it, was that belonging to, indeed that bestowed at birth on, his betrothed Fanny Brawne, which itself sounds like some kind of primitive lubricant. Miss Brawne was connected to the Tattershalls, a Lancashire family whose doyen in the late 18th century was a horse dealer known as Old Tat. The name lives on in Tattersall's, the Sotheby's or Christie's of horse sales.

Why some of you commenters have got it in for Keats I do not know. Perhaps you are pleased to take your cue from Byron, a jealous man who referred to his verse as 'Johnny Keats' piss-a-bed poetry'? In my English Poets XI I'd put him in at No.5 and field him in the gully: he had a very safe pair of hands, only surpassed by Milton.

(Is there a prize going?)

Vicus Scurra said...

Pavlov. Once again I am in awe of your widelyreadness.
I am beginning to expect, however, that you may not have many friends. And that people may try to avoid sitting next to you on long distance flights.
You are very welcome here, however, pull up a chair, get comfortable, and tell us all about the architecture of eighth century Samarkand.
In answer to your query, I can see no merit in Keats. I don't know what he was writing about, and I suspect that neither did he. Part of this view is based on prejudice. The phrase "the poet Keats" was a, for reasons I never clearly understood, a running theme in my school semi-underground magazine.

Mr Stephen Rowe said...

'tis not David but Stephen.

'tis not Coleridge but his ruddy big house.

More laudanum less poetry!

Vicus Scurra said...

Steve, Dave, who's to tell?
Apologies. I hope that you are still my new friend anyway.

Dave said...

Keats: slightly less well-known was his sideline as an end-of-the-pier comedian (in the off-season). It was at Skegness that he first penned his famous 'What's a Greek urn?' skit.

Not noted for his humour, it was another five years (he was appearing at Cromer by then) that the punchline 'About five drachma' came to him.