I don’t know how I’m feeling when I sing these things to you,
But I know I’m feeling happy when I’m singing out the blues.
Now that may sound paradoxical, I reckon that’s the case,
So let’s get over it this evening, with a lovely dinner I’ve knocked up, which is a very simple fishy broth, with Cod, Scallops and Halibut, but I haven’t used any Plaice, because I they didn’t have any at the fishmongers. Is 8.30 ok for you, or shall we make it 9.00?
Cartoons and things by Simon French
www.thebigeyes.co.uk and www.graphoftheweek.com
At The Farm Hair licked by a cow, like when it happened to you At the farm. Also licked on the balls, but not by a cow, by a man In yellow, and not At the farm. The End Cartoons and things by Simon French www.thebigeyes.co.uk and www.graphoftheweek.com
Stroked by Cars Middle of the road tarmac meltdown, My cat’s eyes stuck fast, Reflecting on there predicament, Green, red, white, dead, Repeatedly stroked by cars, A bit too hard. THE END Cartoons and things by Simon French www.thebigeyes.co.uk and www.graphoftheweek.com
Summer Feline Denture Sh*t I put my cat out bit*h, In the sun. Got my mutha fu*king gun on it’s back, Used factor 50, sent him out, back. Hairball sh*t got stuck in his fu*kin dentures, He gonna go sent mark his f*ckin adventures. He’s my cat bit*h He’s my cat, Gotta protect his teeth […]
Chafe It is only afterwards, with Scented moisturising cream On my balls, That I think of Vaseline, And make and anguished call, Like a Cock Pheasant. Next time, I will be prepared, And it will be More pleasant. Cartoons and things by Simon French www.thebigeyes.co.uk and www.graphoftheweek.com
The Tall Grass by Simon French Swaying.
Stimulus I wandered lonely because I’d been abandoned by you in a desert, And it was cold. Then I remembered that your love is only due to chemical reactions in the brain, From outside stimulus, And physical reactions due to nerve stimulation on the skin, Which again cause neurological stimulus, And the release of dopamine. […]
The Problem Man The answer is to run away To leave soon as you can, It isn’t wise to hang around With the Problem Man.
Translated from his last collection of poems, ‘In the past it stood up on its own’. The Bird Flys forward, by Ivon Iraravavich Stand on my fist Light my hand Turn my face towards it The bird flys forward Translated from his last collection of poems, ‘In the past it stood up on its own’. […]
In 1881, at the tender age of ten, Ivon was invited to read from his second collection of poems, ‘Prosím, nechte Chodba Light On’ (Please Leave the Hallway Light On), at the celebrated West Dorset biennial, in Buckland Rippers. It was here, in a whirlwind romance, that he met and married the Russian playwright, Imelda […]