Windy Smithy

[Nemesis]

I think I'm going for the real thing new - seeing as how we tend not to have local scrap yards in rural areas and most corru is still sitting on 100 year old barns.

Vague price from local agricultuure place is twelve quid for a sheet. Galvanised steel.

The heating and foundations are the preserve of the design engineer of the family. Certainly there won't be glass fibre (nasty stuff) or blocks. A proper frame is what it will sit on.

 

[Penners]

There. Two excuses. Am I forgiven?

You were forgiven even before you transgressed. Anyone who can manage to wangle weasels into their excuse deserves nothing but admiration.


Weasel wangling... have I just invented a new country sport? I might suggest it for the next Suffolk Show, to follow the Dwile Flonking in the main ring.

 

[Gareth Hughes]

Weasel wangling... have I just invented a new country sport? I might suggest it for the next Suffolk Show, to follow the Dwile Flonking in the main ring.

Nope, Weasel Wangling has been the traditional children's prelude to the more grown-up Worzel Mangling at country fairs in east Norfolk since at least 1987

 

[Penners]

Damn! Thought I was on to something there.

 

[Gareth Hughes]

The Dullsworth Palaver Weasel Wanglers in full flow on St Marjorie the Incontinent's Day, pictured at the moment young Tom Muckstick, the Bogle Clencher, is about to pass the weasel (and a lot else besides) to Molly Von Himmler.View attachment 2

Worzels being brought to the Mangling by the Virgins of the the Francophone village of Droit de Seigneur (near Sandringham)View attachment 1

And the mangling itself in progress, a sacred ritual conducted in the utmost secrecy and almost never photographed, or even witnessed by anyone from south of Diss.

Once Mangled, the Worzels are taken into the fields and released, while the drippings (in the bowl) form a nutritious meal, tractor lubricant and, in an emergency, a substitute for either limewash or methylated spirits.

 

[Nemesis]

Don't you have work to do conserving things young Hughes?

Or is it your day off?

 

[Gareth Hughes]

Don't you have work to do conserving things young Hughes?

Or is it your day off?

Stop it, you're starting to sound like my boss (and everyone else)

 

[Nemesis]

You mean - folks such as the good council taxpayers of B...........

 

[MdB]

Weasel wangling... have I just invented a new country sport? I might suggest it for the next Suffolk Show, to follow the Dwile Flonking in the main ring.

This made me laugh so much as I have come across it before...

Most of you know I am a sad muppet and one of my little enjoyments is to play this little game. They often have competitions and back in 2005 they had one called "Best Story written while Drunk" which was won by Necrophage. It included this little gem:

I sat for nearly two hours contemplating my growing dementia, trying to conceive mental games, such as Name That Tune (which I always won in zero notes, making it somewhat less than fun) and Wicked Weasel Wangling (the rules of which were unclear to me even as I played), to keep me sane.

Full story here.

Now I never thought I would find a link between PPUK and KOL but now I have...

Dwile Flonking is of course well known enough to have its own Wikipedia page.

 

[Gareth Hughes]

Weasel wangling... have I just invented a new country sport? I might suggest it for the next Suffolk Show, to follow the Dwile Flonking in the main ring.

This made me laugh so much as I have come across it before...

Dwile Flonking is of course well known enough to have its own Wikipedia page.

Sadly, my friends who were regulars at one of the pubs where Ruland Rules nurdling is still practised have emigrated to New Zealand.
http://groups.msn.com/CompletelyPast/theramjaminn.msnw - but how odd the places that Biff gets himself a name check!

Any idea what pub game this bit of apparatus relates to, if any? (and, Nem, this bit really is work)on the underside of a beam in the former tap room of an ex-pub - closed 1955 - in our district. Serious (and not so serious) suggestions welcome as details are unknown.

 

[Nemesis]

Ah yes - the Pub Being Ruined...


I'll ask the OH. My career in visiting pubs is, as you know, limited to the occasional sweet sherry or port and lemon in the best parlour.

It's hard to find somewhere selling a decent glass of ratafia nowadays.

 

[Gareth Hughes]

Ah yes - the Pub Being Ruined...


I'll ask the OH. My career in visiting pubs is, as you know, limited to the occasional sweet sherry or port and lemon in the best parlour.

It's hard to find somewhere selling a decent glass of ratafia nowadays.

I hadn't realised this
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wincarnis
was a local brew.

 

[Penners]

The Dullsworth Palaver Weasel Wanglers in full flow on St Marjorie the Incontinent's Day, pictured at the moment young Tom Muckstick, the Bogle Clencher, is about to pass the weasel (and a lot else besides) to Molly Von Himmler.

Did you ever write for Kenneth Williams, in "Round The Horne"?

You're wasted just swanning around doing the odd bit of conserving.

 

[Nemesis]

Bum wine:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bum_wine

(I am getting confused with the Betjeman thread you know... )

Sanatogen and Calpol is more my thing.

 

[Gareth Hughes]

The Dullsworth Palaver Weasel Wanglers in full flow on St Marjorie the Incontinent's Day, pictured at the moment young Tom Muckstick, the Bogle Clencher, is about to pass the weasel (and a lot else besides) to Molly Von Himmler.

Did you ever write for Kenneth Williams, in "Round The Horne"?

You're wasted just swanning around doing the odd bit of conserving.

YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT?!?!?!? Friday evening and I'm sitting here in the office after a day of typing official rubbish, typing whimsical rubbish because when I get home I'll hit the bum wine and not come round til Monday when it all starts again.

But no, I just wrote Hugh Paddick's bits.

 

[Gareth Hughes]

The Dullsworth Palaver Weasel Wanglers in full flow on St Marjorie the Incontinent's Day, pictured at the moment young Tom Muckstick, the Bogle Clencher, is about to pass the weasel (and a lot else besides) to Molly Von Himmler.

Did you ever write for Kenneth Williams, in "Round The Horne"?

You're wasted just swanning around doing the odd bit of conserving.

Here is the climax, so to speak, of the festivities on St Marjorie the Incontinent's Day. The performers are holding their breath beneath the surface, but the show can continue for up to half an hour before anyone comes to their aid.

 

[Penners]

Any idea what pub game this bit of apparatus relates to, if any? On the underside of a beam in the former tap room of an ex-pub - closed 1955 - in our district. Serious (and not so serious) suggestions welcome as details are unknown.

It's the old Norfolk game of 'Deflower The Virgin'. Twelve swains line up and the young lady in question gets to swing the pointer. The swain whose number comes up wins the right to... well, you get the picture.

The game fell into disuse for obvious reasons.

 

[Gareth Hughes]

Any idea what pub game this bit of apparatus relates to, if any? On the underside of a beam in the former tap room of an ex-pub - closed 1955 - in our district. Serious (and not so serious) suggestions welcome as details are unknown.

It's the old Norfolk game of 'Deflower The Virgin'. Twelve swains line up and the young lady in question gets to swing the pointer. The swain whose number comes up wins the right to... well, you get the picture.

The game fell into disuse for obvious reasons.

Yes, the pointer sometimes snapped off due to excessive swinging by both the young lady and the swains.

 

[Nemesis]

Crone

I shall not, I think, grow
round, brown and sweet as a cobnut,
but sour and suck-cheeked
as a December crab-apple. I shall sit,
narrow-eyed, wide-kneed, clot-veined,
in a chair by the porch,
malodorous as slurry.

I shall slew gossip with rancour,
dispense trench-mouthed wisdom,
breathe on the embers of old feuds,
espouse boundary disputes,
and cast pervading doubt
regarding the parentage
of the village’s chidren.

Those same village children
will find me repellant,
but be unable to run
from my gin-trap of tales
of ailments, vile cures, Rubik’s cube,
drowned farmgirls and kittens.
I will cause many a wetted bed.

Naturally, my cottage,
unkempt and unlovely, with its
inappropriate windows, will ensure
depression in property values,
an explosion of dandelions.
There will be nostalgia, I know,
for the use of the ducking stool.

And when incomers ask of me,
as I know they always will, if
I’ve lived here the whole of my life,
I’ll stretch into my bumpkin smile,
narrow eyes, and give the unvarying reply:
Oh, no my dears,
no, certainly not yet.

YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT?!?!?!? Friday evening and I'm sitting here in the office after a day of typing official rubbish, typing whimsical rubbish because when I get home I'll hit the bum wine and not come round til Monday when it all starts again.

There's life beyond... it just takes time to reach it.

 

[Penners]

Yes, the pointer sometimes snapped off due to excessive swinging by both the young lady and the swains.

I was thinking more of the current imbalance between supply and demand in Norfolk. Plenty of demand, but nowadays a distinct lack of supply.