Molestrangler Analytica...

Breaking news by Ms Edwina Baggage - Bicycling correspondent on The Sodden Prickney Bugle...

Baroness Cynthia Molestrangler has instructed Phondle and Knudge-Wincke, Solicitors and Commissioners for Oaths, to investigate how a telephone list of all the Parish was obtained from Mr Norbert Iodine's chemist shop, so that calls could be made to alter the result of the erection (don't you mean 'election' - Ed) when Count Basil Kalshnikov was voted in as Supreme Chairman of the Council.

Constable Lumbersnatch has also been informed for some reason only known to nobody in particular.

The self-styled Baroness insists that Mr Iodine's list of customers was purloined some time around the voting for the Count, and that there are some people who indeed have copies of all the prescriptions issued by various physicians in the district.

Mr Iodine was instrumental in obtaining permission for the lay-by outside his shop, so that Ms Billary could park her 4 x 4 to purchase necessary accessories such as comforting preparations to enable easy seating etc., and the like, without being noticed. In fact Mr Iodine was once (at least seven times - Ed), seen to assist Ms Billary who kept tripping up and falling down, by grasping several parts of her at the same time while her driver panicked and picked up the various packages, which contained enough preparations to fell a horse, maybe an elephant, possibly (get on with it - Ed), and had every reason to let slip the names and addresses for voters to decide.

Count Basil Kalshnikov made no comment, except to say that the little blue pills were for a complaint not unassociated with manic impropriety, not what you're thinking.

...to be continued.

Stuff of life...

While I suppose I shouldn't be partaking of this particular beverage today, as Twickenham and Cheltenham seem to be the stamping grounds of the Irish at the moment, I do have a certain loyalty to the dark tincture as my dad worked for them for thirty years and I had several jobs there as well...

So as writer's block continues, I thought I'd show you a pic of one I opened ten minutes ago!

Sláinte!

Eyes, eyes...

Scrobs went for an eye test today.

Tunbridge Wells is OK, but not the best place these days, and some of the shops are a bit tawdry... It was raining so perhaps that made the difference.

So, into Boots, and away we went!

Lovely ladies with machines to show the bits you need, and eventually the result was that your favourite bloke this side of The Appalacians really didn't need new specs, he was still about the same as three years ago, except for a tiny nudge towards a cataract, which is to be expected at my time of life...

So, we decided to forego the cost of a new pair of specs, and wait a year. But we also decided that the specs normally presiding on the Scrobs' conk needed a bit of adjusting, and so it was thus!

How can anyone ever write a poem about the eyes of the lovely lady in the opticians? Gorgeous, as we had to stare at each other for several minutes, and I became somewhat lost in a blue haze and nearly wished I was many years younger..

We sorted the specs I still have, I paid not a cent, and promised to come back next year.

But the most beautiful eyes I ever see are those of the Senora Charismatic Roberta 'O'Blene, the love of my life!

The Art of Coarse Life...

I'm so saddened to read from Duff and Nonsense, that Michael Green has died.

http://duffandnonsense.typepad.com/duff_nonsense/2018/02/michael-green-1927-2018-rip.html

Michael Green first came onto Scrobs' screen back in the '60s, when I was at school, and subsequently revered all his books, which are the funniest I have ever read.

I also have 'The Art of Coarse Sailing' and 'The Art of Coarse Golf', which are just superb! The dust covers went years ago. We actually tokk the former on a Broads boating holiday once, and recognised so many passages! As for golf, I was no better than the coarse version, and gave it up when I was in my twenties.

By coincidence, Her Fragrancy, the Senora O'Blene and I gave each other as many Michael Green books as we could find for Christmas last year, and sadly - or perhaps hilariously, I'm right in the middle of 'The Art of Coarse Acting', which Duff and Nonsense describes!

I must have read all these books many times, as I can remember several passages by heart. Whenever I hurt my leg doing anything, it's always 'the zongular tendon', mentioned as an imaginary rugby injury, and I'll always recall the immortal line of Lady Macbeth coming down the stairs, and putting her foot right in a brazier...

There was also a novel 'Don't print my name upside down', again with a memorable passage describing a note scrawled on the wall next to the jounalist's telephone 'I have now been here for three-quarters of an hour, trying to speak with the Council's Water Engineer'!

'The Art of Coarse Acting' is just superb, and there were several sequels which I have yet to read, but my favourites have to be the rugby books, as it was probably his writing which convinced me that if I coudn't stay in the First XV, being a good tenor in the Thirds wasn't such a bad alternative!

I shouldn't be surprised if The Art of Coarse Heaven' doesn't come out soon, because he could write humour into everything...! What a great chap!

R.I.P.

Electro Kevin's men...

One of my oldest blogging friends, Electro Kevin, has some great news to impart. He doesn't do a blog at the moment, but is a regular on C@W and other great sites, where I can see his posts and other stuff.

Since I started doing an online sort of thing nearly eleven years ago (when the real Scotton Pinkney site was around), I made so many good online friends, like Lilith, Philipa, Idle, Tuscan Tony, The Lakekelander and several others, I miss them all, especially Kev, who is a stalwart in his own skin, and we've heard of his twin sons who started getting going since before the eleven plus which they passed just like that!

I'll just cut and paste Kev's comments for the world to see, because Mrs O'Blene and I are are just feeling great about the results!

(Elec's posts)...

Sorry to brag, Scrobs. 

I just can't keep it in. 

Laddo's come back from med school (2nd year - where did that go ?) and has won a 4 year scholarship to research brain tumours during his summer hols. He gets mentored by leading brain surgeons and specialists - maybe a stint in Harvard too. 

£2k a year so no more Deliveroo at weekends for him. Yay !

This is the medical equivalent of being selected for the youth squad of a top six Premier League side. Literally top in his year. 

He's decided he wants to be a brain surgeon and hopefully this will set him up with the contacts, experience and CV he needs to be selected for it. 

They like his attitude and from the Facebook pages he is clearly a very popular young student. 

The other twin is doing well too - MSc in Chemistry, excellent results but not quite so driven. V proud of him too.

They were nine eleven years ago so we were in the prep stage. I recall that period. We could not afford to have both go through the tuition so we paid for one and Mum got paid in free tuition for invigilating the weekend mock exams which went on for about a year. 

The boys got to the grammar and Sam decided that he wanted to be a doctor at 14, which we took with a pinch of salt (most kids say that) but looked up what he needed to do. 

He had to build a CV of voluntary work, DofE, sport - a set of extra curricular activities that developed well roundedness. He represented England at orienteering, coached in underwater hockey, helped out in a hospice at weekends and held down paper rounds and shop jobs (in sixth form.) It was important to keep him in a motivating peer group - both orienteering and underwater hockey have a fair number of doctors in them. 

When his GCSE results came in we knew he was a contender. He got the near perfect scores that medical school demand. He then opted for IB instead of A levels with a bent towards chemistry, biology and maths. He got 39 out of 45 which is the equivalent of 4 A* + 1 B at A level. 

Only one university offered him an interview. As it happens the one that did took him on. 

The less I say on this the better. I can understand universities rejecting a candidate of this calibre but to not even interview him ??? We can all surmise why. 

Their loss, quite clearly. 

We are so thankful to Leeds for taking him on. 
As well as his IB he had to take two extra exams: UK Clinical Aptitude Test (UCAT) and British Medical Aptitude Test (BMAT) - these were taken at the local driving test centre where everyone else was doing their driving theory test. This on top of an already heavy workload. 

This guy is EXACTLY the type you'd want poking around your brain in a crisis.

rvi - I have twins. The other is doing a chemistry MSc and is scoring 90%s in exams and dissertations (Southampton)... yet this is overshadowed (we are trying to be conscious of this situation.)

Sorry to brag yet again. I'm just astonished by it all and trying to comprehend it. 

Durham is a fantastic university. My niece has a shot at Oxbridge but wants Durham for her English Lit as it is the most revered in this subject. 

Her Dad's Chief Scientist Engineer at Gillette and her uncle's head engineer on fuel systems at Jaguar. There are several teacher in the family and wifey's a systems analyst by profession... and here I am... a simple train driver serving the drinks !

I do feel a bit left behind at family gatherings now. 

(We had a house full of med students last summer.)

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Scrobs here now - All I've done is cut and paste the lot, as they're Kev's words, not mine, so the story unfolds magnificently!

I'm absolutely delighted and so is Mrs Scrobs, that we see the result of a lovely family, over half a generation of time on this small blog, but seeing men actually, getting there!

Best news this year by far!

Editorial whinge...

Scrobs is fed up with seeing the awful layout of the previous post, so here's a later one to start the weekend with a song, a cheer and a tincture.

I'm not actually writing anything, just making sure that I don't have to see the stupid white lines behind the letters!

Have a nice day!

Three more for the trough...

There were the usual grumblings in the committee room of Sodden Prickney Parish Council, when it was announced that Waynetta Slobbess, the errant offspring of Ms Cynthia Molestrangler, had eventually pinched an invitation to Count Basil Kalashnikov's son's wedding, and wouldn't give it back.

Waynetta (48) taught bicycling to Ms Edwina Baggage at quite an early age, which is why the famous column (whaaaat! - Ed) is so prominent in 'The Bugle', and Ms Baggage is an expert in such matters, having had many bicycling experiences in her turbulent career. The landord in 'The Bells' will testify to that, as her expenses didn't always cover the bill, but parts of her did - allegedly, and usually when the landlady was absent.

So it appears that the caterers have to find three more places on the trestle tables and get three more chairs - extra reinforced, as it seems that the two very plain sprogs belonging to Ms Slobbess are being dragged along as well, much to the astonishment of anybody who bothers to show interest. The two are rather odd females but no doubt the Sodden Prickney PC will help shoulder the bill for their voluminous appetites and peculiar table manners (shurely not table-ending again - Ed).

Meanwhile invitations have been pouring through the doors of the rest of the committee, including the new secretary, Madame St Mont-Shemel, who hails from Brittany, and who has apparently been invited three times, although why Ron Groat feels he is in a position to invite anybody, is somewhat obscure! Miss Amelia Newt has already ordered a new pair of overalls, and a different sort of hat. She will be dealing with Alderman Groat when he next calls round for his tea, and it is understood that it won't be a pleasant experience.

Count Kalashnikov has decided that only the local mild beer will be served at the wedding breakfast. This is mainly because some of the lady members got over-excited at the last public gathering and did a communal 'Zulu Warrior' on one of the tables, until they were asked to leave, mainly by being dragged by the hair and dumped outside the back door until they sobered up. Mr Kalashnikov suffered a partial embolism at that particular event, well, that's what was reported in The Bugle, but others know better...

So it seems that the bloody wedding is still going ahead, and most people in the village are fed up with the incessant rubbish being printed in 'The Bugle', and really couldn't give a monkey's.

(Edited on strict instructions from our Proprietor, The Hon. R.E.Evers)