The Hunting of the Sunark (after Lewis Carroll) Part 3

 

The Hunting of the Sunark (after Lewis Carroll)

Part 3

The door knocker knocks rat-a-tat-tat

Oleaginous Oliver opens the door

'No-one's here just me and Larry the cat

No Sunarks live here; of that I'm sure

Westminster's really not the Sunark's bag

Glad-handing summits are more to his taste

- A podium pic; a wave of the flag

No little people; no questions to be faced'

 

'Outta my way 'Snapper' snarls Crudde-Arss

The Baron's come here to hunt Bozzman's quarry

I'm nasty I'm rich; I've got no class

That Sunark's toast, Dowdy; don't you worry!'

Young Dowdy slams the door in Crudde-Ass face

'No matter' says Bozzman with a grin

'I kept the keys; no.10 being my rightful place!'

'Bravo' say all as they rush on in

Sunark's upstairs panicking on the blower

'The Bozzman Bunch are tight like a drum'

S'nark's Compadres are a duplicitous shower

- Kemi's just 'badass'; and Swella's plain dumb

Sunark rings his sole mate Jezza-Le-Hunte

Jezz is away at a numeracy class

'Jiggles is just useless, I must be blunt

Who can I turn to to cover my arse ?'

Vlody Zelensky treats me like Bozzman's bitch.

'Where's Wally' Wallace having queered my pitch

Manny Macron says our Bromance is done

I'm simply Rishi No-Mates with nowhere to run'

As The Sunark considers a spreadsheet which sets out his options (of which there are precious few) the tread of Bozzman and his Ruffians can be heard on the stair.... Has the Sunark left it too late to escape the Bums' Rush or will he survive to see his 5 Pledges sink without trace? Do not miss Episode 4 (or stream all episodes on Nutfix for 50 Smakers -used notes preferred. All prices subject to rate of inflation at time of purchase)

TWO LIVES – A MEMORY OF CHILDHOOD

 

TWO LIVES – A MEMORY OF CHILDHOOD

“Ready”, the old man said. The boy took the his hand and the two of them slowly left the house.

They crossed the Bricklayers Arms railway bridge, on to the Old Kent Road where, just beyond the Thomas a Becket and discreetly hidden from view, was a small park; with a circular patch of grass, a path running round and benches carefully placed at regular intervals.

This was not a park for the young. The old man sat down with a grunt and simply said, “Go on off you go and play”. The boy did as he was told and began fighting imaginary enemies in his Spitfire – whee, whee, whee, ttttttttt…..

The old man rested his on his stick and stared off into the distance but without seeing.

“What the fuck’s it all been about. Look at me an old man, but inside I still want……..”

“Yes, what do you want?”

“I don’t know – something different – not to be like everyone else”

“Christ, you’ve been going on about this for more years than I care to remember. Well you had your chance”.

“What, America?”

“Yes, America”

“Why did I ever come back”

“Let me think now……how about something to do with leaving your wife alone with a child and another on the way, does that ring a bell?

And then a few years later, at 35 years old and now with 4 children, you volunteer for the army and away you go again, off to war.

Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now, so just be grateful for what you’ve got”

I can’t, I just can’t……

A little later the boy came back and sat down next to the old man, who continued looking into space.

The boy looked round the park, and saw that many older people sat on the benches, solitary and unmoving.

He looked up at the old man, but said nothing. He was a good boy – no questions, no demands – he just sat on his hands, swinging his feet, and hummed tunelessly wondering what was for tea.

After a while the old man got up, held out his hand and the two of them slowly started for home.

On the way, no words passed between them, the one with a life yet to unfold, the other a life that might have been.

The boy in the story is me and I am now the age my grandfather was when we made these short journeys to the park over the months before he died.

Unlike my grandfather, I do not look back on my life with regret. However, in recent times, I too have begun to look into the distance without seeing. Like him I also feel a great loss, but not for a life less lived but for the loss of my wife, Anni.

We were together for 45 years. She was my greatest friend and a woman for whom life had to be lived. It sounds hackneyed, but we were meant to be together and, together, we lived a life that bought us immense joy and happiness.

Anni died on 16^th September 2022, and since that day, joy has gone out of my life. So, yes, I sometimes look into the distance without seeing and recall the times we had together, from which tears flow and feeling of grief comes over me that is hard to bear.

My darling girl, I love you and always will.

In Memoriam: Ann Maria Neal b. 02.10.50 d. 16.09.22

The Hunting of the Sunark (after Lewis Carroll) Part 2

 

The Hunting of the Sunark (after Lewis Carroll)

Part 2

The Cowardly Lion's holed up somewhere

Number 10, no doubt, or maybe Chequers

Moggster opines 'One does not really care...'

No Sunark can escape these Bozzman wreckers

 

'To Westminster, Brave Cronies in Chariots of Fire

Pretty will lead our Spite Brigade charge

Burnished by bigotry; galvanized by ire;

No prejudice too small for a Bully-at-Large

Through Trafalgar the Butties sauntered

Dippy Dorris bringing up the rear

'I'm an MP, Bystanders' she taunted

'Mid Beds Burghers . Get me outta here!!'

Onward, onward strode the 6 Bunglers

Jacco Berry had now joined the band

'Cuthroat Jake's with us' Bozzman thunders

Let's die-in-a-ditch; Let's make our last stand!'

'Come my Avengers. Get Sunarkxit done!'

The Motleys round Whitehall and teeter into Downing

Kuenssberg's there waiting and a chap from the Sun

Is this revolution or just more Bozzman clowning?

'What business with The Sunark?' asks Ms. K

'Is it to praise or Berry the Apostate?'

'One seeks only to Pro-rogue, One might say...'

Moggster attempts to divert and obfuscate.

'No time to stand here bandying chat'

spits Pretty pressing on to number10

'We're here to face down the puny rat

I'm Nemesis; the Chastener of feeble men'

Pretty raps feverishly the knocker to Number 10. Who will answer the Door? Is the Sunark heading for the Escape Tunnel? Is that the noise of his personal helicopter with Sunark's Bestie flying in to the rescue? Only Part 3 will tell. Don't miss!