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40 Comments
Is that monster in the last frame a Welsh Rare-Bit?
Or is it a Mr Rarebitt? Gay undesirable friends, the ears look about right, if was wearing red togs….
Caught my mood exactly. The end indeed.
Yep, it’s all going to end in tears. May I suggest ideal theme music to accompany the final frame ie: “One More For The Road” as in -
‘So set ‘em up Joe,
I’ve got a little story you ought to know…”
I thought that beer contains gluten - or was it just a subtle irony that I’m missing?
Oh Zut, surely it’s time ‘The One That Got Away’?
At least one of those elves will be able to lip-synch to it.
I am yet to be convinced of the need for a cardigan tax. I don’t wear cardigans so I presume I pay nothing but little old ladies will have to pay through the nose for the right to wear cardies. Oh yeah, and Peter Garrett should resign. I think that is all…
Zut and HB
The “Paeddo Bears Picnic” would also be appropriate given the toxic fairies (Gloria, Andrew and Kneel), in the woods?
Let’s just hope that stupid wilful girl, remembered to pack her Swiss army knife before venturing into the forest.
Otherwise, it’s going to be bloody difficult, cutting her way out of the belly of the beast.
Holden,
You’re terrible, Muriel!
A stanza in my suggested theme:
“We’re drinking, my friend
To the end, of a brief episode.
Make it one for my baby
And one more for the road…”
Ooh, Paddy likes Angela Carter, Miss!!
I do like the idea that stupid wilful girl might just be cutting it a new one from the inside.
Great ‘toon, FD. Although I’d have been expecting the word Green to appear. I’m picturing this Fairy Tale as a stage set, along the lines of The Sleeping Princess and the role of the Lilac Fairy.
The curtain rises for Act II to reveal a somnambulant court scene. Everything and everyone is covered by the green dust of a hundred years. Enter the beautiful Green Fairy to plead with the Carbon Tax Monster not to carry out his threat. On closer inspection the raven-haired and beauteous Prima Ballerina Assoluta-Pansy O’Neil-bears a startling resemblance to a Senator called Bob Brown. To the throbbing and sensuous music of Tchaikovsky the Green Fairy wears down the resistance of the Great Carbon Tax Monster. “Very well”, he intones “They shall sleep for a thousand years”.
Herself draws up to her full height and puts her hands on her hips. “That’s a bit steep.”
“Nonsense” He points to bodies lying asleep in the court scene. “These people call themselves the Coalition”. He waves a finger at the Green Fairy. “Don’t argue girl, they’ve been asleep for the past hundred years; what difference will another thousand years, make?” He scratches his cheek, “They’ve turned a fine country into a giant hole in the ground, poisoned the rivers, leached out the land, sold off the minerals at give away prices, and every time they have a set back they go running to the media and whinge about it. Their leader is worse than useless, he spends his entire life practising different ways of saying “No!”
He turns and does something almost unheard of in Ballet. He addresses the audience. “Good evening you motherf.uc.kers. It is thanks to you that the Coalition keep getting re-elected. It’s thanks to you that the standard of Oz politics rates somewhere below Cuba or Bellize. I sentence you to a thousand years of sleep. Don’t worry, no one will miss you.”
The Great Carbon Tax Monster puts an arm round the Green Fairy who gives a throaty sigh “What’s on for tonight?”
“As if you didn’t know!”
Zut- Harold Arlen right back at you, for an older genration of elf:
“The night is bitter
The stars have lost their glitter
The winds grow colder
And suddenly you’re older
And all because of
The man that got away”
When I was Tiny Buzz (a mere hum?) the occasional teenage boy or creepy man would come up and tell me that there was a kitten hurt down the street and would I come and help him look after it. But thanks to The Daily Mirror which provided our little imaginations with more interesting fodder than seeing Spot run in “Fun With Dick and Jane” I was never fooled.
Coincidentally the monster’s drink looks like the same size as the scotch and water I’m now nursing at home to medicate this mother of a head cold I’ve caught. I ran out of pseudoephedrine.
@Buzz, I’ll bet you were never a mere hum. (More a magnificent symphony)
Anyway, scotch tastes much better than pseudoephedrine and it won’t keep you awake.
@Buzz: It was Fluff and Nip in Fred Schonell’s yarns about Dick and Dora when I was a canvas scrap of a shoe.
How well I … myself … remember the cartoon the first frame is reminiscent of.
But…imagine! Earlier this morning I was typing up scraps of old scribbling into semblance of artistry. I found the following: Tantantara!
A feller’s very long proboscis
Was thought on the balance of it noxious
Philosophical all you like he said to a tyke
Its as long as you feel at the end it is.
and…
A feller’s very long proboscis
Was promoted as quite innocuous
Tho’ when I’ve a cold he said going red to be bold
People around me start running.
AND…
A feller with a great big gizmo
Claimed it got in the way of machismo
When he jumped on his bike or was it a trike
He whizzed faster than billy-o.
NOT NEGLECTING…
A feller with a great big gizmo
Claimed it got in the way of machismo
When he jumped on his bike
When a lady suggested hike
He had to watch not to to step on it recklessly.
Thanks in anticipation…are we there yet?
‘Shoe.
@ pAddy: ThAnk YoU. YOu’Re now mY seConD besT frIend! Hic!
Hey Jules
Dont let me down
Take a bad poll and make it better
The minute you let em under your skin
Then you need calamine and phenergan
Nobody here really gets scansion, do they? Least of all you, Mr Shoe. Shame.
Oh, and you give good cartoon again, Dog. Though this has all moved beyond satire into the realms of drinking and bomb making.
that is funny crispy
What’s wrong with these morons who have waif like children and move in right next to dark forests ! I mean, don’t they have any open chemical drains or high tension powerlines to live next to ?
Venise, I think you’re onto something here. A pantomine within a blog !
Look, behind you, FD ! It’s Punch and Julia.
Crispy, I resemble that remark about scansion.
‘Shoe writes a poem that doesn’t scan,
Gets criticised by crispish man.
She was trying hard
As best she can.
All power to her wrist.
Then in comes Buzz - her nose aglow,
Ephedrine withdrawal - don’t you know!
Her big mistake we see unfolden -
Was taking advice from the back of a Holden
She winds up getting pretty pissed.
And Andrew L and Zut Alors
Show up quite late with petite fours;
To tempt the ‘Nauts towards the axe.
Towards the nasty carbon tax
Strolls the willful girl to make her tryst.
She disappears without a trace,
We’ve got budgie smugglers in our face.
“You’ve naught to blame except yourselves”
Chant the ghost of Julia and several elves
We’ll soon find out how they’ll be missed.
We’ll soon find out how they’ll be missed.
Mike,
Heh heh, you contribute remarkable copy, as ever. Incidentally, the stuff you’re on, is it legal in NSW? Or is it merely …….GIN?!!!!
MikeJ - shouldn’t that be Punchy & Julia?.
Thank you, Zut, do you mean on …. a chair ? …. and Gin …. of course
AR - well done ! It IS Punchy and Julia ! Is it OK for me to use that from now on ? Don’t count on massive royalties, though
Nice work MJ and dogonaughts
I think I have seen that monster at the bar of the Alexandra Hotel and, from memory, it has never won the Anti Social Golf Club and Yabbie Fanciers *meat tray, and I will personally see to it that in never does.
I will be in early on Sunday at Our Lady of the Blessed Schooner, and will have one or two for you all.
* Supplied by Brendan @ Leura Butchery; Jack Sprat could eat no fat his wife could eat no lean, but when they tasted Brendan’s sausages, they licked their platters clean.
On this blog it’s appropriate everyone’s writing doggerel.
Hey DrMick get Brendan to change ‘sausages’ to ‘snags’. Say it out loud. Works a treat!
There’s enough talent here to write a hit Broadway show.
‘SHOE, I salutes yer!
I particularly like the line ‘He jumped on his bike, or was it a trike?’
BUZZ is elegant and fun. And MIKE’s genius is transparent and wonderful, but I have to do some work.
Hasta mañana
When Sandshoe was just a sweet moppet
She wrote verse so unique you can’t top it
She is such a dear
For showing it here
I think we’ll just have to cop it
Alternative last line: But I’d like to ask her to bring it to a conclusion now.
G’day (sorry I was trapped without a library where I was yesterday.)
CRISPY: Mr Shoe! That is so gorgeous and it not even my voice that was mistaken as is usual on the telephone. My whirred!
INNOCENT: My scansion’s shot/not sure what is what/I’ll look at that/must be darft.
Thanks V.
MJ: You are brave. I try to fit as many into my ramblings and scribblings as can be shoved and it’s like a crammed telephone box. Maestro!
DRMICK: I met a Mr Rarebit once. I had him on toast. Hehehehe
Venise, the Welsh are edible????
ANDREW: That one was.
I liked the cartoons until I discovered that the other people who like them and post comments are stark raving loonies.
Include me out!
I don’t understand them either JEAN. They are apparently called ‘Dogonauts’.
It comes with the territory. Damned if I know why, but it does.
Next time don’t include yourself in, and you won’t have a problem.
ELAN: That’s very funny. Good answer!
I’m confused. Late (bus to library service). I’m glad Elan popped in on Saturday to help Jean.