Besides the trivial meanderings of bloggerings herein and thereabouts, I have written screenplays (In Hollywood, Playing Willy) and am putting the finishing touches to my first novel, The Sublime Dramatic; a tale of science fiction, comedy and global conspiracies. News of that will be forthcoming, so please follow me on Twitter/Facebook for more information.

Within the pages here lies a treasure trove of total bollocks.  Why treasure trove? Because bollocks are testicles, which are colloquially known as family jewels - so treasure.  A trove? Well, as you can see from this intro - the trove is as drivelling as it is replete!

Conscious Uncoupling

So, Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin released their separation in a truly bizarre press release.  However, there is more to this story than meets the eye.  I, a year previously, issued a statement to the Hollywood press that was largely ignored.  See if you can see where they may have got their inspiration from:

Their Recent Press Release:

It is with hearts full of sadness that we have decided to separate. We have been working hard for well over a year, some of it together, some of it separated, to see what might have been possible between us, and we have come to the conclusion that while we love each other very much we will remain separate. We are, however, and always will be a family, and in many ways we are closer than we have ever been. We are parents first and foremost, to two incredibly wonderful children and we ask for their and our space and privacy to be respected at this difficult time. We have always conducted our relationship privately, and we hope that as we consciously uncouple and co-parent, we will be able to continue in the same manner.

Gwyneth & Chris

My Original Press Release:

It is with a heart full of sadness that I have decided to separate my hand from my groin. I have been working hard for well over a year, some of it with my hand on my groin, some of it with the extremities entirely separated, to see what might have been possible between the two, and I have come to the conclusion that while they obviously love each other very much they will remain separate. They are, however, and always will be a unit, and in many ways they are closer than they have ever been. They are providers first and foremost, to two incredibly wonderful rugby socks and I ask for their and my space and privacy to be respected at this difficult time. They have always conducted their relationship privately, and I hope that as they consciously uncouple and co-exist, they will be able to continue in the same manner.

Gwyneth & Chris (what I call my left hand & a cock)

Spooky or just downright plagiarism?

Ode to Summer Plums

I’m grateful for these summer days,
I’m thankful for the sun.
I’m pleased to feel the heat it brings
To each and everyone.

But there’s one thing, I must protest,
That makes me out of sorts;
The stress and the unpleasantness
That happens in my shorts.

Of course, I’m talking sticky nads.
Yes, wet and sweaty balls.
More moisture than has ever surged
Across Niagara Falls.

Sweet ladies, you don’t understand
Man’s trouble and his grief.
All your bits are tucked away
In lacy, finespun briefs.

I’m fighting back, I make a stand
So please don’t feel dismay
It must begin, from here on in: 
They’re going on display.

My main concern is simply said:
To stop perspiring floods. 
Perchance to feel a mellow breeze
Flow sweetly on my spuds.

Giving Monday a Little Something Back

The Boomtown Rats united the country against Mondays over thirty years ago, when Sir Bob of the Geldof Shires sang (or loosely flubbered) “I Don’t Like Mondays”. They reflected the mood of the generation and all scruffy London-Irish at the time. 

Forty years ago, a more demure and some would say, better looking human being, Karen Carpenter, lambasted the easy target of a day with “Rainy Days and Mondays”, harmonising in her angelic way that they always got her down.

Then of course we had New Order yack on about Blue Monday and the flash in the pan that was The Bangles bleat about Manic Mondays. And so, music history has been littered with anti-Monday songs. A horrifying musical trend of Mondayism that we all embraced so willingly.

If Monday was a race, I don’t think we would have stood for this abuse. If Monday was a religion, there would have been several angry mobs across the world using the rhetoric against Monday as an excuse to satisfy their bloodlust with kidnap, torture and murder. If Monday was a dictator, it would have been hanged for harbouring non-existent weapons of mass destruction.

Then of course, we always forget that Monday grants us all sporadic holidays throughout the year.  Whoever heard of a bank holiday Wednesday or an Easter Thursday?  Yet no one has ever stopped and turned to Monday and said thank you. Thank you for giving me the time off to sit and relax, maybe go to the beach or party just a little harder the days beforehand.

So here’s where I lay down my arms in the fight against the Day of the Moon. I surrender in shame in this one-sided war against the first day or the week (second for some). I stand up and proclaim, today is a new day. For today is Monday.

Monday is the foundation for the rest of the days of the week. Without Monday, Friday would be Thursday. Saturdays would be spent in the office and we’d have to spend Sunday nights socialising in order to deliver a solid hangover just in time for work on Tuesday.  Without Monday, billions of scheduled timetables would need to be rewritten and reprinted, causing a collapse of western economy and untold destruction to the rainforests. Without Monday, society would simply crumble into a six day week where Tuesdays would become the new focus of hatred.

Monday is the start of all things new. The first day of spring, but once every week. The new-born child that delivers promise to the world. Monday is the birdsong on a summer morning.

I now consider Monday my brother, my friend & my lover. I shall start each Monday with a smile on my face and warmth in my heart.

But most of all, I shall do my job and work with pride on Mondays, while ignoring the fact that I have written this particularly rambling mess of an article in order to do anything other than my day job because I can’t stand bastard Mondays and all they bloody stand for.

The "C" Word

I really like the “C word”,
I say it when I’m cross.
I say it to my mummy,
I say it to my boss.
I say it in the garden,
I say it in the street,
I say it to the strangers
I’d otherwise not meet.
It makes me feel so common
When dropping off the T.
It makes me feel quite sexy
When said on Babe TV.
The word can cause commotion,
Especially for girls.
Despite the fact that all it means
Is what’s beneath their curls.
It really aggravates me
That English words offend.
It’s just a word, so should be heard,
Rich language is our friend
Why suggest “The C Word”?
We all know what you mean.
Don’t be a prude with attitude,
A word is not obscene.
So shout it out the window,
Express, we’ll hear no grunts!
We’re all a bunch of “C words”!

All Works Copyright © 2017 Benedict Francis

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