it won’t be much of a storyline or disorganised action to be going on, but, said breadroll, perhaps we could pick on the overweight again. they are far to sluggish to get out and burn stooges.
besides, said block of wood, stooges of skinnies wouldn’t make much of a fire.
we love the way a block of wood points out really crucial things. our friends feel the same way. they have the same sense of humour and are otherwise quite similiar, too. and now something almost completelt different:
it won’t be much of a storyline or disorganised action to be going on to, said breadroll.
sponge agreed. nothing to add.
a story we are suppose to tell, said sponge aren’t we. alas the idea did not attract too much support. what d’you need a story for the man said, and feck was the general public’s response. bread and games and fun and sweets is what the general public likes and craves and the general’s will shall be an order; after all we might as well ditch the whole campaign if we weren’t to achieve some brassed medal.
they did ask me, said breadroll, to make a start and that is exactly what i did — right now i did it. not that i did not do exactly the same thing before, i know i started an episode of some sorts before, before, but this time it’s different. a second time around, me is now which i believe everyone has been waiting for.
that does sound profound, said sponge, and i produced a rhyme. howsa!
the working class, by and large, is persistent. we open their graves in a 100 years time and find the track suits without a sign of decay, we can put them straight back into the economy; that how persistent.
impressive. no wonder they capitalise that. breadroll waited.
what are we waiting for, he said.
what to do now, said sponge, if we were to kill ourselves, how would we go about?
we could hang ourselves on hooks, said block of wood.
very kitcheny, said sponge, it might bother the housewives.
cruxify us, said breadroll.
that might outrage the muslim, said sponge.
they would burn us then, said breadroll, that should serve the purpose.
only our effigies, said sponge.
shop till we drop?
no shop around, that is the problem. we should leave it for the moment, said sponge, and no-one would be upset.
she was rich, said breadroll.
yes, said sponge, but that’s over now.
way over, said breadroll.
we couldn’t go back ther, said sponge.
no, said breadroll, not possibly.
the spanish tart didn’t go down too well, said sponge (yet another episode started that way. it is a terrible.)
it was sensored, said breadroll, at the time it was ok talking about sex but doing it was a big no-no.
nobody wants to see you doing it now, said sponge, a tart and a breadroll is just too much carb.
you see, said breadroll, what i said. i might give her a call anyway.
i’d love that, said breadroll. the spanish tart, or the german torte.
i didn’t know about that one.
no you didn’t.
they linger. it seems to be a nice day. cookies are nice, too. the government will not pass any law today. the weather will continue to process nicely.
if we look back, said sponge, we wish we hadn’t done so.
too late now, said breadroll, it’s done now.
dada as an art form is not really relevant anymore these days, it’ll make too much sense, said sponge. i know this is out of context but nonetheless relevant and needed to be said. if not today then one of those days otherwise.
that’ll be it now, he said, let’s have a rest. a rest but not a rust.
let alone a roast.
ha ha, very witty indeed.
now, we are about to end a week although we just started a day, a line as from a ballad, some nu romance stuff, said sponge , we just say goodbye and godspeed.
which has no limits.
ha ha very witty indeed.
the day then passed without special notice.
dada, as is work related, as in labour relevant, does fnothing for people and has no significance in industrial relationships other than being signifcantly present, in presence, past and future tensions.
bravo, said sponge, well done. the others say the same.
bravo, said breadroll, -(and so on).
what if cheese rained fom heaven and fed us all and squashed the oaf on impact, said sponge, somebody must believe in that and have a bashing for it. burn the usual suspects and all.
agreed, said breadroll, just don’t blow us up. rrrntt takk taa hhaata tihkili iii eeoaaa tti, to quote the poet.
ah that’s beatiful, said sponge, i didn’t know that, that’s just like the one with the shoes that hang around when the person who owned them is already dead and gone.
and what happens then?
nothing. they just hang around and then they go. just like normal people. just smaller.
now that i made contact, the man said, could i hate to confess but i was a junk food addict. i devoured all this trash and just could not stop. this fatal passion ceased when i started taking heroin. oh, santa, my inclination to eat constantly vanished, spirits improved and i became the happiest person on the planet and that’s why i can tell you now that i turned to the happiest person on earth.
at least one is happy, said sponge, one has been saved.
what can you possibly reply, said breadroll, to so much happiness.
the usual, said sponge, we thanks you for your company and appreciate you as a human being. that should do.
did you hear about offally, said sponge. he look straight ahead. they have bombed offally.
some time ago, said breadroll. was it a hate crime after all?
no, said sponge, sectarian apparently, or maybe religious. they are not sure.
in china somebody got married, a child was born in peru and urinated on the mother’s belly straight away. the mother being somewhat overwhelmed as she had not expeted that, a russian housewife burnt the dinner, however, but this turned out not to be an overly serious incident as the husband had had a serious accident and did not come home for dinner this evening and a long row of evening in future, spent the next seven weeks in hospital instead and after being released he could only take in liquid diet for another six weeks, and an irishman with an poorly grown moustache walked into a pub and proceeded straight to the counter.
all these are very sad stories, said sponge. but i love you all.
just quickly, herr brekst said, before my knickers twist. i shall say a poem.
not a poem, said sponge, not allowed.
a song maybe, herr brekst inquired, a tune, slightly detuned, arty but full of joy, like
rrrrznnn brrrrrlissssss tokkk me luv
tok luv luv me tokkk
no?
no, said sponge, not allowedd, double-d for the weight of the word and the celtic touch.
falafel is not what it used to be, said sponge, much dearer than back then.
i used to stuff them inside me, said breadroll.
very fattening, the fat woman said. too much carbs, i’d watch it if i was you.
you know, herr brekst said, i hate this. i was supposed to appear and make an appearance, say something, and first and foremost get a question answered. so?
errm, though one, sponge said, to bargain some time. we shall have some change, shan’t we?
a song, toe, thee,
brekst sulcess
lose weight guardian scrotum convey.
male enlargement fracture gauze arragon.
you’ve tried all the rest, now try the be st? recumbent nightgown
the or igi.nal….male enlargement desk fickle dexterity.
doorknob, flooded his ears.
and on we went walking. on the trail less travelled. around corners where others never would think to take a snoop around. they walked, now view view from top. the three walking. heading towards another corner.
if anyone wants o take a leak, said sponge, it would be a chance now.
i took a leek from a garden back there but it was rather raw, said block of wood.
if you think british is about funny puns, said sponge, it is not. it is about puns, that’s it — (he gave the final ‘t’ a really sharp finish to make a point).
you call this dada, said brekst in a sudden burst of mirth, this doesn’t make any sense. hah. – uneasy looks of course, no-one knew what to say, where to look, what will he do next, a german at loose with a dose of joy to spread, a melancolic poem perhaps he’ll burst into, some sort of militerischer gruppenubunk or kinds, leitmotif opera probably, perhaps we aren’t sure.
so then, herr brekt said, we shall proceed. a useful setting, not novel but suitable for one. second pun.
some sort of, said sponge.
idea, said breadroll.
dada is when we do add some message, herr brekst said. like the environment. we could also hurt religious feelings.
global warming, said sponge. splendid, herr brekst said. we won’t go any further.
29 September, 2006 
