“Don’t like it. Won’t lump it,” Good Friday carry-on in Cressroads
Re. TWTWTS cont. from 07/04/09
Messaging texts for comments on Blogsbody’s blogs, a white Welsh witch, who once practiced her craft in Cressroads has boiled up a cauldon of That Was The Weekend That Was in the watercress capital of the world.
One attracting royalty to its Tichborne Arms. Blessed by a bogus bishop. And spotlighting a pair of golden oldies engaged only in the throes of an inaugural five-hour chatalong.
LOVE, IRV, IS HAVING THE FAITH THAT GOD’S WILL (WHOEVER HE IS) WILL BE DONE. CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR FORTHCOMING MARRIAGE, ex-Tenerife cabaret artiste Bronnie Starr, gone to make waves as a seaside psychic in East Sussex, messages Blogsbody. An hour later - 17:50 - the 56-year-old daughter of a late Llanfyllin hotelier persists in her uninvited reading of a crystal ball to go on to all but warn Blogsbody: YOU WOULDN’T RECOGNIZE ME. I’M A BROKEN WOMAN. MY FILM WILL BE ON ‘YOU TUBE’. I HOPE YOU WILL BOTH BE VERY HAPPY.
Reminding Blogsbody of Freddie-the-Beeb’s alternative plan to hedge his bets to want to shoot the town hack come high noon this Maundy-Thursday in Cressroads’ Broad Street.
‘Postponed, Freddie, then penciled in your diary for today. Is it yes? Or another day?’ Blogsbody emails the BBC-TV reporter.
“Someone who refuses to believe the great British eccentric is a dying breed. Seeks people to satisfy his expectations. Interesting. Unusual. Ideally, both. Freddie talks to them about their lives. And makes short films, which are shown on BBC South,” explains his producer.
Leaving Blogsbody to ponder the merits of including a former Cressroads postman renowned for his unashamed lack of tolerance surrounding matters political, racial and religious that, from time to ‘time, please, guys,’ are afforded their healthy airing or two in the Primmer Bar of the Arms.
“Not a cross, a stake,” insists Julian-the-Post.
“A straight lump of wood.
“Tall and strong enough to support a body bound as well as nailed to it. Hands above the head, one ankle across the other, and left to die for as long as the next three days.
“Not only men. But women. Children, too.
“You’ve only to read the Bible,” the retired bachelor postie calls for an end to Good Friday effigies of Christ-the-Saviour nailed to a stake with a cross bar.
