You’ll be glad to hear that my ticcy brain has now calmed down, the who? Why? What? Train of thought has now stopped. Good. However my tics are just as bad as usual, my neck is still quite painful due to having to twist my head until my neck cracks, and I need to come up with a competing response (an alternative movement) to take its place. I have another tic that needs banishing, it’s the “open-your-mouth-as-wide-as-possible-whilst-eating” tic, it’s name says it all really, it’s a pretty gross tic, it’s not so much putting other people off their dinner, it’s the fact that my half chewed food falls out, double yuk! So far the only remedy I’ve come up with is to cover my mouth with my hand. It looks like I’m not going to be taken to any nice restaurants soon.
As I’m in quite a dapper mood I’ve just ventured outside to the village shop, you’ll also be pleased to know that I didn’t get accosted by any young ***** outside the shop asking me to buy them a bottle of White Lightning, 10 Lambert & Butlers and a pack of king-size Rizlas. (I just had to mention the word “****” as I’ve been told not to, ticcers mostly do what they’ve been told not to do). So, I thought I’d treat everybody to some more poetry, the 4th worst poetry in the universe, and some of the 3rd worst poetry in the universe. (See vid)
Also, I’ve just found out that Roy Ayres is heading our way (who???) Roy Ayres, jazz/funk vibraphone player. He’s doing a gig in Birmingham next week.
(The best version of “Ain’t no Sunshine when you’re gone” I’ve ever heard.)
So here’s the poem….
There was a nice man called Doctor Rickards,
With his arms he could reach over ninety-six yards.
Whilst stood at the bar,
He could unlock his car.
The designated driver, Doctor Rickards.
Apologies for the picture, it’s my first attempt at…at…I don’t know what, trying to create a collage using Photoshop I think. I don’t think that you’d find Dr. Rickards at the bar of the Mount Pleasant in Llanelli, or drive a van rather than a car.