Lofty; just wondering if your non-de-plume originates from being very tall, or very short, or holding very high ideals? My question is a genuine one as I have a just-turned 15 year-old son who is close to 6foot6inches, and we're encountering difficulties!
I for one, refuse to believe the torrid version your brother put forth here, involving Gwyneth?
Sorry Robert (can we pretend my comment is in funky, whispery italics...would love some one to teach me how as I'm a moron when it comes to computers) didn't mean to bring up painful, more than likely repressed memories for Lofty. God knows he has enough to deal with, comb-over and all.
It isn't really a comb-over, Suz - Loft paints his hair on every morning, with henna and a scrapey brush-thing he made from cardboard. The sound of scritch, scritch, scritching on that tortured scalp, every morning,is one of my fondest memories. Turning ordinary text into italics is easy. Do one of these < then one of these i then one of these > Then write what it is you want to say. Then do one of these < then one of these / then one of these i then one of these > That's all!
OMG Robert!! You remind me of my 7th form Physics teacher in 1985 (which I barely passed) 'tis a foreign language to me I'm afraid...Poor Lofty..my scalp is aching in sympathy ;(
'Squinty' Morag, Lofty, the woman you married? She was Gwyneth's sister? I'd always believed she was her probation officer, given the size of her, and the way the two of them were always hand-cuffed together. Life's strange, isn't it, Loft?
Lets put it this way Suz, I have heard every " you dont need a ladder, hows the air up there" bullshit that you can imagine, as I am sure your wee lad has also. It does become tiresome after decades, but it inevitably does come from those with "the little man syndrome"
I answered most smart arses with the old "the view is great from up here, and the air is so clear, by the way how does my arse smell?"
Actually Lofty comes from High ideals, I am actually 4'6", and look somewhat like a dried prune on a good day, but my darling wife loves me ;-)
Yes Bobby... Morag the woman who threw you over for me....and who can blame the girl.
It is the wooden leg that got to me, as it did to for you Bobby I know.
It came down to me actually knowing how to screw the leg back on.
She only squinted when you had a go at screwing, and that was because she couldn't see anything in particular. (oops sorry folks I meant screwing the leg back on)
That's a matter of opinion, Lofty. (Old joke, hackneyed really, and impossible to write - should be said aloud, 'It's a matter of a pinion', said the woman with the wooden leg.)
I just sat down with Morag and said "all ok love?" to which she replied, make me a vegemite sandwich Lofty will you?
Well what could I do?
1 vegemite sandwich on its way to Morag 1 one legged lover. After all it is her that washes the painted on henna, followed by a very soothing scalp massage. Bliss.
Morag's a fine hunk of woman, it's true, Lofty and its true only you can manage her waywardness: the unannounced body-slams, the scaldings and her curious fascination for frozen sides of beef. You know, Lofty, I was crazy for her. The day you lassoed and hog-tied her, took her out to your hovel and proposed that you marry, I was crushed. Crushed, as I know you were, later on. But the best man won, Loft. Victory was yours and the spoils show in your complexion and the way you wobble as you walk. We should write this stuff down, Loft. It's history, our history - raw, unrestrained and pure drivel.
25 comments:
Of.. ships and sacks and sealing wax, and cabbages & kings.
Silly little word...should be spelt ov
Ov corse!
(Nice Carroll reference btw)
Lofty; just wondering if your non-de-plume originates from being very tall, or very short, or holding very high ideals? My question is a genuine one as I have a just-turned 15 year-old son who is close to 6foot6inches, and we're encountering difficulties!
I for one, refuse to believe the torrid version your brother put forth here, involving Gwyneth?
(Don't bring up Gwyneth, Suz - too painful.)
Sorry Robert (can we pretend my comment is in funky, whispery italics...would love some one to teach me how as I'm a moron when it comes to computers) didn't mean to bring up painful, more than likely repressed memories for Lofty. God knows he has enough to deal with, comb-over and all.
It isn't really a comb-over, Suz - Loft paints his hair on every morning, with henna and a scrapey brush-thing he made from cardboard. The sound of scritch, scritch, scritching on that tortured scalp, every morning,is one of my fondest memories.
Turning ordinary text into italics is easy.
Do one of these < then one of these i then one of these > Then write what it is you want to say. Then do one of these < then one of these / then one of these i then one of these >
That's all!
OMG Robert!! You remind me of my 7th form Physics teacher in 1985 (which I barely passed) 'tis a foreign language to me I'm afraid...Poor Lofty..my scalp is aching in sympathy ;(
Hey Suz - I'll do a screen-shot of this window, and demonstrate the process of creating italics.
Lofty!
How's that?
I'll post this in the main body of the blog for your convenience, Suz :-)
if this works you're a bloody genius !!
Ha!! You are! Big thanks
HA Suz...Must I give away more of my "real" persona.
Suffice it to say that I commiserate with your son.
Poor Gwyneth..But Bobby never met her sister Morag..;-)
I take it from that you're a tall boy too Lofty...beds not long enough, doorways an issue, shoes a nightmare, but at least no short man disease.
'Squinty' Morag, Lofty, the woman you married? She was Gwyneth's sister?
I'd always believed she was her probation officer, given the size of her, and the way the two of them were always hand-cuffed together.
Life's strange, isn't it, Loft?
Lets put it this way Suz, I have heard every " you dont need a ladder, hows the air up there" bullshit that you can imagine, as I am sure your wee lad has also.
It does become tiresome after decades, but it inevitably does come from those with "the little man syndrome"
I answered most smart arses with the old "the view is great from up here, and the air is so clear, by the way how does my arse smell?"
Actually Lofty comes from High ideals, I am actually 4'6", and look somewhat like a dried prune on a good day, but my darling wife loves me ;-)
Yes Bobby... Morag the woman who threw you over for me....and who can blame the girl.
It is the wooden leg that got to me, as it did to for you Bobby I know.
It came down to me actually knowing how to screw the leg back on.
She only squinted when you had a go at screwing, and that was because she couldn't see anything in particular. (oops sorry folks I meant screwing the leg back on)
Bit of bad luck bro sorry.
(creepy word verification "caven")
That's a matter of opinion, Lofty.
(Old joke, hackneyed really, and impossible to write - should be said aloud,
'It's a matter of a pinion', said the woman with the wooden leg.)
I salute you Bobby,
That was to be my next post in fact my bloody punchline...blast & damn you. Well done.
You and I, Loft, cut from the same cloth.
Cut from the same cloth maybe..in my case though it is "never mind the quality, feel the width".
I just sat down with Morag and said "all ok love?" to which she replied, make me a vegemite sandwich Lofty will you?
Well what could I do?
1 vegemite sandwich on its way to Morag 1 one legged lover. After all it is her that washes the painted on henna, followed by a very soothing scalp massage. Bliss.
Eat ya heart out Bobby, I won that baby.
of...skins and heart
Morag's a fine hunk of woman, it's true, Lofty and its true only you can manage her waywardness: the unannounced body-slams, the scaldings and her curious fascination for frozen sides of beef. You know, Lofty, I was crazy for her. The day you lassoed and hog-tied her, took her out to your hovel and proposed that you marry, I was crushed.
Crushed, as I know you were, later on.
But the best man won, Loft. Victory was yours and the spoils show in your complexion and the way you wobble as you walk. We should write this stuff down, Loft. It's history, our history - raw, unrestrained and pure drivel.
Yes yes Bobby Drivel indeed..but unadulterated which is the way you greenies like it.
Post a Comment