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).
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.
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).
would you do it for anything, said sponge.
not for nothing at all, said breadroll.
cheap match on the headline, said sponge, high five on that.
for suck’s sake, let’s find a nibble that isn’t an alcopop, said sponge. a shop a shop, an empire for a shop.
lingering won’t help and loitering is frowned upon. burning puppets though is a valid expression of concern only in areas without running water and population enough to sustain the edition of a newspaper. so burning a puppet is out of question, they’d be done by by-laws.
not much use with these people, quite useless as a population, barely suited for genocide, we might get a decent mass murder out of them though.
says sponge in reply to breadroll’s remark one should knock down a corner or two and commit a few atrocities after all this would draw crowds, just look how popular everything is with hitler and the nazis in it —and ends the discussion.
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: 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.
that threw us, didn’t it? sponge was matteroffactish, in a way that certainly sought approval but also let room for improvement, well balanced inviting imitation most nominally. we should vote.
for what, said breadroll.
a naked man, said sponge, that is something of meaning. no?
no, said block of wood to have a word in. he has words in every now and then but basically could turn into a chair if it was not for the violence.
meaning, known what it is all about wanting to you must be, my words, marksman, said sponge.
not know i whot thy spaketh, said soldier said, quath ye thinket m’sarge?
sergeant sarge, never too sure whether being addressed properly or slagged on the sly, pretended to look out for potential primary target, his back to the private, while trying to find his line. i know son, he said eventually and turned slightly, tis bleedingly hard hardship spoken mili’tree spake tis foe sure. meaning seeking is of ours and if thous expect shouting and shanting fear not you shall as us eat with knifes and forks us use.
jolly good, said sponge.
fnnn fnnfnnfnn fnn fn fnnn.
did you close the drawer or did i, said blokkk “brutality” wokk.
you did, said breadroll, or did i? he wasn’t there anyway. and: slurrdshh; had butter all over him. one of those mornings of rushed sexuality.
he should have left a note, said blokkk, still letter-k-ayed.
it came to them like the child to our madonna; they’ve been secretly fucking around with somebody but now could not tell the truth.
well it might have been a vanilla bun, said breadroll.
beside the point. it was there now. immobile. non-negotiable. the call for innovation. it better be a good one for a laugh.
sometimes i think, said sponge, that saying something is not the right answer at all. i sometimes even think i should not have said what i have said. like right now. i should not have said this. i do want you to keep sending me txts. promise? ——— now there is one.
grammar is a gamble.
and i should not have had txtd that for is is just a phrase (but noone will notice).
breadroll on entering the room, lightly populated by sponge and more recently, block of wood:–
now, what am i doing here?
i don’t know, said block of wood, get out.
ti, sponge, that’s it backwards. much better — preferable; less offensive that way as there could be breasts all over the place. it’s, that swings tits in it, doesn’t it. [pause. in a perfectly clean breakfest scenario breadroll and block of wood are having breakfast. a healthy breakfast not a stealthy one as a man needs to do a man's day work] —– it’s, you’d see them swinging, wouldn’t you. that would not be right.
i wanted to explain the meaning of th word quagmire and why it ended up as a title for an episode but i reckon i won’t, herr brekst said and spread this aura of depression again. one should invent a spray or something against that.
well now, said breadroll, the presenter is scared now.
————— it is up to me i suppose, said sponge, so say it: the episode started rather without significant events, not even the odd bleak sun was to rise over the roofs. ———
this line for example marks a break, herr brekst said and points vaguely at sponge, between sponge’s part and mine.
long lines stand for deep thought in printed media, herr brekst said, to show what’s going on and that it is going on inside people’s heads, or what should go on (nothing, more often than not). it also stands for a longer pause (brackets are popular, too, to express thought). you didn’t think that, did you. ——————— bet you didn’t. ——————— me neither (as in would have thought so(. there you go, wonders everywhere but this episode still strikes me as somewhat unfinished.
they did ask me, said breadroll to make the first line and that is exactly what i did — right now i did it. not that i did not do exactly the same thing before but that is a second line now which i believe everyone has been waiting for.
he loiters for a while.
today in lights of the day, i mentioned it earlier, we present sponge of breadroll, sponge and block of wood with our queries. but now for some music in between today.
[some music you can imagine]
tough, said breadroll, i’d love to show my bit now and say it.
that, said block of wood, would be. he leaves us guessing.
cutlet splatter is so 20th century, said breadroll, but traditional sausages are a classic, in some countries anyway.
so. you’re back, said sponge.
yes i am, said breadroll, you did not get any further i assume.
no, said sponge, we did not. a few uplifting moments though.
at least something, said breadroll, i suppose.
how could you loose her anyway, said sponge, that seems quite odd.
tiny head, said block of wood.
of course, said sponge, i forgot.
arse, herr brekst said while block of wood — unaware of herrn brekst’s presence — was searching for a way to keep the conversation going, in any case, or should i say, anyway better than arsenic. that’s is a trivial insight. the little lad from next door said that. he is stupid but in his age it’s called cute. (long protracted silence). anyway. better than some things.
(repeat last line ad lib).
annamusic – spongy tunes
14 September, 2006 