Thursday, April 1, 2010

See me in the blue sky bag And meet me by the sea

The story of Twirlylocks and the Three Eating-Disorder Fishes is a traditional tale among the simple fisher-folk of New Zealand. I shudder to think how many times the Doktorling Sonja made me read it to her -- doing all the proper voices and everything -- so now I know it off by heart.

This is the point in the story where Twirlylocks is letting up her long spiral tresses, which is supposed to help Dwarf 6 who has somehow blundered into the trap laid by the evil three-tailed halibut. Meanwhile, in their house at the left, the Big Bulemic Fish has Eaten Too Much [deep growly voice]; the Small Anorexic Fish has Eaten Too Little [frail quavery voice]; and only the middle-sized fish in the middle has eaten just the right amount, following Ministry of Health Guidelines about a healthy balanced diet [self-righteous pompous voice].

The Friendly Stomach-pump Giant is on the way to help Bulemic Fish. He's carrying the sack of spare alphanumeric characters on his back because he has a second job as the Keyboard Fairy (who sneaks around offices at night fixing keyboards while the owners who spilled red wine on them are asleep) and he didn't have time to change. He is wearing three-toed dinosaur feet because IT'S NONE OF OUR BUSINESS and we shouldn't judge. Anyway, before he can deal with Bulemic Fish he has a higher-priority crisis to handle, which is the wooden submarine #9. The illegal immigrants who comprise its cargo are all feeling sea-sick, which is not a good thing when you're sealed into a flotation suit, ready to be shot out of the missile tubes towards your new home.

Inside the submarine you can see the people smuggler telling them "Hold on for another minute! The Stomach Pump Giant is nearly here!"

Ignore the pictures at the top of the diagram. They actually belong with another story, illustrating how useful it is to have a shadow-board in your home laboratory so the gas tanks are always put away in the right place and you don't get the Nitrous Oxide mixed up with the Helium [high squeaky voice].


mikey said...

And just exactly WHO is it we find at 7b, passed out in a diaper at the base of a very tall ale silo?


Smut Clyde said...

A mere yard-glass of ale is nothing to we hardened graduate of Messey University, and we soon move on to larger quantities.

M. Bouffant said...

Hokey Smokes, all you poor sods down there have to work two (embarrassing) gigs?

And does the Friendly Giant shrink when he starts at Keyboard Fairy-ing?

ckc (not kc) said...

...surely those are the same three fish involved in hostile maneuvers(manuevers..manouverrs...argh)...STUFF - here?

mikey said...

Three fish attacked behind a flying horse
The building was strongly defended, of course
The three fishes didn't seem to care.
Perhaps they were distracted, being up in the air

Anyway, the attack was on
The building held out, approaching dawn
The fight was hard, the cops were drunk
The boats shot down, their pilots sunk

In the morning's truth, eyes rimmed with red
The survivors turned out to collect the dead
In the smouldering wreckage, the flags did lie
And we sat and stared, and wondered "why?"

ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

...he has a second job as the Keyboard Fairy (who sneaks around offices at night fixing keyboards while the owners who spilled red wine on them are asleep)

Not that I'm ungrateful dead, or anything.

But I do have a further request of the Keyboard Fairy: Could he/she/it/giant fix the 10/100/1000 Gigabit9 Ethernet network interface adaptor?


ckc (not kc) said...

Could he/she/it/giant fix the 10/100/1000 Gigabit9 Ethernet network interface adaptor?

Consider it done! (It's not done, but my approach is always to consider it done.)

fish said...

Uncle Nigel really did let himself go. Turns out his fondness for England's contribution to international haute cuisine was insatiable.

mikey said...

Hey. Probably best not to fuck around with the wine port...

Another Kiwi said...

Masterly retelling of the twirlylocks tale, by the Herr Doktor Smut, Folk Doctor laureate for the Southern seaboard of the North Island. Many times we have sat on the front porch of the Rat and Cockle, Ngawhi, whilst the Doktor entranced us with such tales, our Deep Fried Mince and Cheese Surprise toasty pies growing cold as we listened.
Magical times, enlivened by the Marat/Sade version done with carved figurines and various appendages, which would not ordinarily be thought of terms of being entertaining.

Smut Clyde said...

our Deep Fried Mince and Cheese Surprise toasty pies growing cold
Don't give them any hints what the 'surprise' is, AK. We don't want to spoil the next cookery column.

various appendages
It is impressive what parts of the body you can fit a puppet onto.

ckc (not kc) said...

... or onto a puppet

mikey said...

From the infallible word of Wiki: "Ngawi (pronounced Nar wee)"

No. Fuckin. Way.

Ok, two things. First of all, there are a multiplicity of possible pronunciations assumable for "Ngawi" or the likely more authentic "Ngawhi", an in NONE of them is there a freakin 'R' sound.

More to the point, it is very likely that this word is from a language very different from english, written, if it is written at all, in characters of an alphabet entirely foreign to those Latin/European languages we represent with those 26 little squiggles. So if the European rejects that originally came to colonize and populate the great southern land masses heard an indigenous speaker use a word that sounded like 'Nar Wee', why would they choose to transliterate it without the use of even a single 'R'?

I smell a rat. Or perhaps a Ngwat...

Smut Clyde said...

(pronounced Nar wee)
-- Only when pronounced by an authentic Kiwi with the flat nasal vowels that make a roomful of New Zealanders sound like a paddock of ewes calling disconsolately for their lambs.

The "Ng" is a single consonant, by the way; a sort of nasal/glottal stop. Let's see if Blogger can handle the IPA character: ŋ

They are very proud of their tractors in Ngawhi.

mikey said...

Well I should certainly hope SO!

That is a tractor to take an irrational pride in. Indeed, that is a tractor for the AGES!!

Another Kiwi said...

Ah the delights of Ngawhi where the winds sweep in from Chile or some such place. The sea crashes on to the rocks playfully pounding seal cubs to a mince (OMG!!) consistency.
And indeed the landscape resembles Patagonia sans radio aerials.
Happy days we have spent there but, as cheerful locals assured us, "Folks like you shouldn't stay here after dark"

ckc (not kc) said...

interestingly, Ngawi is on Google Street View (didn't see anyone I knew, however).

mikey said...

Really? Are you sure?

You didn't see Ngwobert? Or Ngwick? Or maybe Mangwiannne?

'Cause I'm pretty sure I'm Ngwight about the whole imagnangwy thing...

Another Kiwi said...

Well it does look as though it was taken outside of rush hour, ckc (not kc)