Sweet puddle

It has been nearly three months since Alastair Bennett last managed to write something on his blog, though I know there are many who, like me, check it regularly in hope of an end to this drought. As a result of his inactivity his nemesis Mrs Gledhill has all but become a household name and I have found myself actually finishing pieces of writing (though I must point out the accountability of several other lazy bloggers for the latter consequence.

But for me the biggest tragedy of Alastair’s silence is that I know he did in fact write a blog entry a few weeks ago, he just hasn’t posted it yet. And indeed may never do so. The reason for this is that what he wrote referred to the fridge magnet poetry in our kitchen, and the poetry in question is so filthy that he is worried about the kind of attention it might draw when unleashed onto the world wide web.

I can sympathise with his dilemma. You may recall that this very blog received the attention of vast numbers of undesirables when James Aylett made an innocent comment about Harry Potter porn (and I occasionally try to tempt back this demographic by dredging up the whole sorry incident, mainly because I’m tickled by the idea of people desperate for some pictures of Hermione Grainger mounting a wizard getting landed with my witty musings instead).

But I would have liked to read Alastair’s thoughts on our fridge magnet poetry, and indeed I would like to see the poetry preserved in the websphere because it really is quite impressive.

I won’t type any of it out myself – we’re already going to be in enough trouble with the Harry Potter brigade. But since they’ve come hunting for porn, I suppose a photograph of our purple prose might satisfy some of their needs and won’t show up as filth in any search engines…

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