Welcome back to Chriswasanon here and on this rather cloudy Sunday afternoon in bookland. I am since those LAWS bereft of a seedy boozer where free people may swear and smoke. We went to this child infested pub and ate crisps. RIP. The old fashioned pub. Hello shiny new twats who you never saw in pubs in the old days and didn't want to. What is happening to society etc...Enough of pro smoking.
Yesterday meself was having a right good fossick through the most wonderful of used bookstores over at Gatehouse of Fleet, up the top of ane converted mill. What striketh me 'bout this shop is proprietor. One of dying breed of old fashioned booksellers. Piles and piles of quality reasonably priced second-hand books, piles blocked the shelves where some of the books were laid in double rows. Annoying for the customer but what a joy to search through. All the stuff piled to knee height on the floor. Here's a cue....knees. Tina has a new slant on that old nursery rhyme classic for you, eggs over Steve Jones style, about his knee and and the beautiful game of football as Herr Humpitude Dumptitude may well have played it. Now without any more blathering blither - yes stop CwA - I hand you over to the TrAnScrIber!
Tina is at the controls:
Steve: You’re listening to Jonesy’s Jukebox…yes… on Indie 1031. Just in case you forgot. Um, I feel very uncomfortable right now. My knee is killing me. I don’t think I’ve got any cartilage left in one of them. This really hurts. I’ve got to play football tonight, too. I don’t 'got to', I want to. I don’t know what to do. I hope I don’t need that microscopic surgery. Oh, it hurts. My back’s all…my back ribs feel like they’re bruised.
Mr. Shovel: Sounds like you’ve become a goalie.
Steve: You know what it is? It’s too much weight on the top, going on my legs. My legs are skinny and my top half is too heavy, like Humpty Dumpty. That’s what I’m like. Oh, it’s a drag. Got Frank Infante coming in later on. He was the guitar player from Blondie and that’ll be fun. He’s bringing his guitar. What else? Nothing.
Mr. Shovel: I see you have some good music lined up.
Steve: Yep, I’m glad it’s Friday. Don’t forget, tomorrow, twelve to two, “Best Of” the week. Best Of The Box from this week, which I would imagine will be, as it stands right now, I would say Andrew WK and Van Hunt were probably the best of the week so far. For me, anyway. (begins to strum guitar) But you never know what today might bring. Maybe Frankie’s horse will come in second, maybe first. So far it’s Van Hunt’s horse and Andrew WK have crossed the final furlough on the steeple chase of The Box. (continues to play guitar) Um, there’s got to be a song in there, Shovel. So knackered, I am so knackered. So happy it’s Friday.
Mr. Shovel: I’m guessing it’s about the weight on your cartilage.
Steve: No, I don’t think there is any cartilage in there. I think I’ve just worn it out. You know like, washers and shock absorbers when they get worn out? That’s what I think’s happened. I don’t know what you can do, other than uh, do that microscopic surgery or whatever they do. They clean it out or something. But it’s…I don’t know. Who knows. Maybe I just need to rest, not play for a few weeks. Maybe that’s the answer. Ohhh, there’s got to be a song in there somewhere, isn’t there, Mr. Shhhhhovelle Couture? Any ideas?
Mr. Shovel: Humpty Dumpty.
Humpty Dumpty he can’t play football anymore
His back is weak and his knees are sore
Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall
And now he’s no use to anyone anymore
Poor old Humpty Dumpty what are we gonna do
Poor old Humpty Dumpty they’ll make some stew
Humpty Dumpty I want some Humpty Dumpty Stew
Humpty Dumpty you’ve got a big bumpty
on his you-know-who
Humpty Dumpty is he an egg?
Steve: (asks Mr. Shovel) Is he an egg, Humpty Dumpty?
Mr. Shovel: Yeah.
(Steve plays his harmonica)
how do you like him
Hard-boiled or poached
Sunny side up or over easy
Humpty over easy
I like him hard hard-boiled
cos you won’t get foiled
When old Humpty
Humpty Dumpty’s got the hump
Humpty Dumpty he’s got the hump
I don’t know why
He’s got nothing to complain about
He just sits on a bleedin’ wall all day
He’s got egg on his face
Oh yes, I’ll have a dozen of them please
The ones without the pesticides and hormones
Yes, the organic ones
The chicken-fed ones yes yes
Humpty Dumpty took a dumpty in his humpty
He’s a silly sausage
People like a sausage lying next to him
with some bacon
a fried slice…