Saturday, 29 July 2023

CANTERBURY REVISITED

Hello again,

Welcome to another edition of The Autolycan.  A recent item about Geoffrey Chaucer caught my eye, and I thought I'd follow it up.  Renowned as a poet, Chaucer, who was born around 1340, was also at various times courtier, diplomat, Member of Parliament, Justice of the Peace and civil servant.  As a civil servant he was controller of lucrative London customs (see below.)  Clearly he was a man of many and varied talents and not somebody we should poke fun at.  Then again....

I hope you like this edition of The Autolycan, and if so do feel free to share with others who similarly might have nothing better to do!


CANTERBURY REVISITED

 

A 14th-century bureaucratic document requesting time off work for a civil servant has been identified as the only surviving handwriting of Geoffrey Chaucer, revered as the father of English literature.

While it was known that the individual seeking a leave of absence was the author of The Canterbury Tales – during his 12-year employment as controller of the London Wool Quay – the application was assumed to have been made on his behalf by a clerk.

Now a leading scholar argues that it was actually written by Chaucer and submitted by him for King Richard II’s approval.  Prof Richard Green, a Canadian academic, said: “This would be the only known example of his hand.”

                                                                                                The Guardian

 

 

Dear Your Majesty, 

Whan that aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
A pilgrimage from every shire’s end
Of Engelond to Benidorm doth wend
And lads from pubs from all parts of town -
From the Pilgrim’s Arms to the Rose and Crown
From the Dog and Duck and maybe at a push
A couple thrown out by that bloke at the Bush –
They each packs their bags and clears all the decks
For the sun and the sand and the booze and the sex!
They’ll be off pretty shortly, all flash and brash
And want me to go too so we’re all on the lash.
So it’s not that I’m keen to malinger or shirk
That I’m asking you, sire, for a fortnight off work.
Pray grant this request from your chief tax enforcer,
With kindest regards from me, Geoffrey Chaucer.

 
Dear Subject Chaucer,
 
Thanks for the chitty about a vacation
It looks like you want to succumb to temptation!
It’s OK by me but please send me a card
And when you come back you’ll work three times as hard!
And when you have gone far away from these borders
Try to remember I still give the orders!
My message to you before you all vanish
Is kick a few lumps out the uppity Spanish!
Those pilgrimage lads look a well dodgy crew,
But don’t you do nothing that I wouldn’t do!
They’re all a bit rough but please try to implore ‘em
‘Remember you’re Brits!   And behave with decorum!
Though I’m sure that you’ll come back a right bunch of wrecks
You go with the blessing of Ricardus Rex.

 
Dear Your Majesty,
 
Ta for the nod but these alcoholics
Are bound to be up for some high jinks and frolics.
Remember last year when it passed all belief
What happened in Riga and then Tenerife?
I seem to recall that the lads were all gallant
When we tried to hook up with some serious talent –
A hen do from Chingford who firstly ignored us
But then got more flirty which soon reassured us
Though a bit of a barney when I pulled the hen,
And you had to calm down some furious men
(Soz about that; it won’t happen again!)
 
Then a tale now each of these travellers tells
Bragging of conquests of young demoiselles,
Or regaling us all with unlikely accounts
Of knocking back booze in prodigious amounts,
Of smashing up cafés, insulting the locals,
Calling them bumpkins or peasants or yokels,
Or shouting and yelling a whole load of drivel
And attracting the lads from the Guardia Civil.
 
But one of the lads says this is all too abusive
Tells all of the others to be more inclusive,
Compassionate, tolerant, enlightened, mais oui!
And teaches us all to be sure we’re PC!
Equality rules! And thanks to this guide
I’m much more in touch with my feminine side!
My cup runneth over – it’s full to the brim,
Best wishes, Geoff Chaucer.  (Pronouns : he/him.)

 
Dear SUBJECT  Chaucer
 
He/him?  HE/HIM?? Are you having a laugh?
I’m appointed by God upon whose behalf
This liberal approach I must surely condemn,
Signed in dismay by Ricardus – HM!!

 
Dear Your Majesty
 
But……..
 
IF ME NO IFS AND BUT ME NO BUTS!!
I’m calling you back, you’re a right load of nuts!!
 
But sire,
 
Believe me, the scales just fell from our eyes,
I have to admit that was quite a surprise!
The lads are converted, they’re truly enthused,
No longer just rowdy, obnoxious and boozed
And want your support now for full civil rights
(And if you can swing it some help from your knights.)
Think of the future, your legacy heightened,
Remembered by all as a king who’s enlightened!
So will you sign up as a moral crusader?
You’d make a fantastic high powered persuader!
 
Alright then!  OK!! Your urging prevails,
But you must agree to add one to your Tales,
A Tale to exhilarate all gentlefolk -
The uplifting Tale of King Richard the Woke!!
 

 

 ANAGRAM CORNER 

                                                   SIR (!) JACOB REES MOGG 

                                                    AS SCROOGE I BEG! - JRM


Wednesday, 28 June 2023

THE TILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE POUNDS FOR BORIS

 Hello

Well, it's been a very long time since I last posted an edition of The Autolycan, so long in fact that I've almost forgotten how!  So I thought perhaps the best way of starting to resurrect it would be to take unashamed aim at what is in all honesty rather an easy target.  I hope you like it, if so I'll try to ease back in to writing again - I've missed doing it.  As ever, do pass it on to others if you think they would like it.

THE TILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE POUNDS FOR BORIS

 


 

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes,

Girls with long tresses and fluttery lashes

Girls who are sexy with whom I have flings,

So long as they don’t think of exchanging rings!

 

One of the latter was Jenny Arcuri

Who came on my trade mission much to the fury

Of oddballs and weirdos and brash underlings

Like Lord of Impertinence – Mr Cummings!

 

Holidays paid for by Brownlow and friends

PPE contracts with great dividends!

Brown paper packages that go Ker-ching!!

This is what makes my life go with a swing!

 

When they shun me -

Overrun me -

When they melt away,

I simply remember my favourite things

And then lead myself astray!

 

Parties that went on inside Number Ten,

Nobody knowing just when to say ‘when’.

Elsewhere the lockdown and misery stings

But we carry on till the fat lady sings!

 

Turning the flat into somewhere quite handsome

Wallpaper rolls that each cost a King’s ransom,

Gaudy and pricey but I pull some strings

And Brownlow pops up to take care of these things!

 

Honours for cronies and mercy for chancers,

Cover ups so that you won’t find the answers

And Govey can wait for all time in the wings,

Now that is the best of my favourite things!

 

When MPs bite,

When the press stings

When I feel alone,

I picture myself – of the world I am King

And proudly ascend my throne!!

 

ANAGRAM CORNER 

WORLD KING BORIS


OR... BLOND WIG IRKS!