they do show a discipline (as in: a system of rules of conduct or method of practice; “he fairly quickly learned the discipline of prison routine”; “for such a plan to work requires some discipline indeed”), they want to make sure not to appear as terrorists after being bombed so far.
the man must be around, said sponge, i don’t think he would be hanging out in a queue for any length of time. not him as being the offally bomber.
tomorrow, the man said (not the man we were talking about), tomorrow, i heard, the government will be thinking about a new toilet. tomorrow.
i, too, have things to do tomorrow, said sponge.
soon. soon soon. repeat. soon.
hours of endless fun said sponge. but soon soon. what will happen? a solution for ravaged offally and its endangered locals. does anyone know where offally is? soon. and so li’eve bloom. where the toilet is. meanwhile we keep looking for a shop. with stuff in it. for sale.
daft little writ, said breadroll. no-one will notice.
a morning dawned, no flavoured coffee around, no office furiture. the simple life at corners. short sentences. tomorrow things’ll better.
a reading from the book of sponge and others, really:
and the blitz had striken offally and left only one toilet intact but the people in offally did neither wail or gnashed their teeth. just nibbled off their neighbours’ backs and queued to deliver the fruit of their nibble. but while the meat was still between their teeth and before it could be consumed, the anger of the lot burned against the people, and struck them with a severe plague.
you have to start queuing while you chew and digest, otherwise you won’t get a seat, the man said, blame the government for it.
he’s not the man, said sponge. we have to keep waiting.
he’s not here, said breadroll, being negative about things.
be negative, said sponge, saves you disappointments.
a reading from the book of sponge.
and others, said breadroll. that’s us, said block of wood. that’s right, said sponge. we start again.
i’d really like to get there, the man said and pointed towards the toilet, badly, he said. he got up and ran.
we should get going, said sponge.
two unrelated statements, made at different locations, at or around the same time, followed by diverse implementation.
only a public toilet near slieve bloom was left, the only facility of that kind, and near the town of slieve bloom it was. not much was left of the town itself, the little that had been was no more, but it didn’t make much of a difference.
outside the toilet, in a long queue, a man, amongst others. surprisingly they had found they way to the town of slieve bloom considering it was off any considerable road but since it was the only place with these sort of facilities in the county it may not come as such a surprise that they all gather here; bar the one to explain all this.
really not him, said breadroll.
a shame, said sponge, we could have asked directions. if we were in offally that is.
but they weren’t there, instead lost in the middle of somewhere on the wait as usual.
as always, said block of wood with a stoney glare.
there’s isn’t much left, said sponge, but the man is there.
not him, said breadroll, the man himself.
no, said sponge, not him.
there can’t be much left, said sponge. the man has not introduced himself, did he?
no, said btreadroll. we’re still waiting for something.
still waiting, said sponge. after all that.
they bombed offally yesterday evening, said sponge, but none of the soldiers we’ve met recently was involved.
that’s nice, said breadroll, they seemed to be nice enough lads.
nice soldiers yes. they’ve got to be if they bomb offalky or kork or kack or killkunny for that matter; who knows how the county might be called.
kick perhaps. west kick.
whatever. they didn’t bomb that bit yet.
all the men so far were gobshites, said block of wood, and no-one needs to comment on the fact of my recently rare appearances.
we know, said sponge, thou art the michael jackson of rare appearances although your face isn’t quite falling apart enough to hold the title forever.
that is not funny, said block of wood.
no, said breadroll, it’s not but what can we do? there is somebody writing our story and there is little we can do to influence him.
not much, said sponge, we could offer ransom or naked ladies but the would wouldn’t work as every bribe would be told. we are pretty much fictinonal characters —— at least we are not supposed to be from offally.
hi, the man said, my name is al. he was not the average man who used to called by every now and then to say things, instead he was something special, something radiant.
i do prefer the letter, said breadroll, it is very much related to all.
offally. of all counties. sounds girlie. and wholesome. like porridge, a girlie thing of a breakfast, said sponge. nothing like the black stuff. with a foamy head in a tiny cup. that’s the spirit that drove europeans to set out and infuse the world with a spirit of blood and bondage.
jawell you’re losing the plot quite a bit, said breadroll, and there’s nothing wrong with porridge actually, it’s british. stop slapping minorities would you.
offally. porridge. oiland. a tendency to slag off minorities is somewhat rather obvious and we tend to apologise appropriately. in the meantime we wish you all the lick necessary to change this very miserable bit of life of you lead and wish all of you a very good morning.
the man was a father of two from offally.
offally?
yes.
a father of two, surprised he was not shot.
fathers of two usually die in car crashes. they are rarely assaulted and hardly ever shot. the armed forces don’t really care about them.
sponge would have liked a turnip, not a turnip maybe, some other root, an apple, which isn’t a root at all, or a piece of toast but there was only breadroll.
the man you mentioned, said sponge.
ow, you listened, said breadroll.
the man, said sponge, was not by any chance the man that came once in a while to say something.
no, said breadroll, the was just an innocent passer-by; surprisingly he wasn’t killed by anyone.
q: clings in with the long titles. the stage had cleared at this stage. people did not remember the words. they were swept up and discarded, the long ones broken into syllables.
the sallytokk staff was hanging around, with beers. not much going on. we shouldn’t have mentioned it. it was really a mellow scene. a few discussed tax implications. no longer words than that.
a: no, not to mention. what can you do? title is title, little to add. it speaks for itself and carries the story like an unwanted growth.
i once meet a man, said breadroll, who did a walk as in a few paces every single morning. or should we wait?
good point, said sponge, we are in win-win here. or lose-lose, for that matter. that just be discussed.
tea everyone, said block of wood. he didn’t say it. he expressed it. there was no tea.
q: politicised titles to episodes seem to be a new way of expression?
a: an expression of way.
q: out?
a: off.
they hadn’t gone far. not gone at all to be honest. they had planned to though, honestly. but i saw a man, said breadroll, with a large face and tiny dolly lips as if he was sucking a stone. he wore a pin-stripped suit. he was a banker. wouldn’t it make you think if you knew your banker is sucking stones?
q: a rather grimm place they’ve come across, the city with corners without any shops at all. let’s see how they cope with it.
a: no, that is not fair questioning at all. we have been plunged into this with no warning whatsoever and ever since tried to cope as best we can.
q: you object fnn this statement rather vigourously — now there’s an ugly looking word — so what is the matter.
if they go left they would find a corner and to the right a street with another corner right after it. not to mention other corners in sight.
i suppose the usual witty comment, said breadroll, to follow; i for one would like to be buttered. he could easily say that for even though buttering him was a considerably nasty affair for all parties involved the lack of butter and shops to buy butter made buttering a faintly imaginable activity. i think i see a shop.
words like this won’t make it far.
27 June, 2006 