Mirth Control, The Fouricci Sequence, Wormulus, The George PRESENT:
the now legendary
COMEDY NIGHT
At The George
213 Strand

LINEUP

EDINBURGH PREVIEW
MATT BLAIZE
DEBOARH SABAPATHY
Aaron Rice
Julian Deane

Plus Open-mic slots
Including b3ta's very own Hexachordal

and your MC TIM

WormuIus

Familial obligations.

Bob Todd whee

there is comedy at the george every bloody tuesday, the big bloody sign outside says so

mongychops

Horace ate himself one day.
He didn't stop to say his grace,
He just sat down and ate his face.
"We can't have this his Dad declared,
"If that lad's ate, he should be shared."
But even as he spoke they saw
Horace eating more and more:
First his legs and then his thighs,
His arms, his nose, his hair, his eyes...
"Stop him someone!" Mother cried
"Those eyeballs would be better fried!"
But all too late, for they were gone,
And he had started on his dong...
"Oh! foolish child!" the father mourns
"You could have deep-fried that with prawns,
Some parsley and some tartar sauce..."
But H. was on his second course:
His liver and his lights and lung,
His ears, his neck, his chin, his tongue;
"To think I raised him from the cot
And now he's going to scoff the lot!"
His Mother cried: "What shall we do?
What's left won't even make a stew..."
And as she wept, her son was seen
To eat his head, his heart, his spleen.
And there he lay: a boy no more,
Just a stomach, on the floor...
None the less, since it was his
They ate it – that's what haggis is.

mongychops

From the lonely crofts of Scotland, two three turn, from the haunts of coot and hern, pause kick, comes a still small voice in a world gone mad, jump two three down, round, spin: the poetry of Ewen McTeagle. This young Scottish poet, up two three, spin, jump and down, has taken the world of literature by the throat, pause, kick kick pause, with such poems as 'Spare us 50p for a cup of tea, Guv' and the world famous 'Lend us a quid till the end of the week'.

Lend us a quid till the end of the week.
If you could see your way
To lending me sixpence
I could at least buy a newspaper.
That's not much to ask anyone.

Upon Reading Chapman's Homer in Selfridges

Owe gie to me a shillin for some fags
And I'll pay yer back on Thursday.
But if you can wait till Saturday
I'm expecting a divvy from the
Harpenden Building Society.

Lines Written to Lassie O'Shea

'To Ma Own Beloved Mary.
A poem on her 17th birthday'

Lend us a couple of bob till Thursday
I'm absolutely skint
But I'm expecting a postal order
And I can pay you back
As soon as it comes.

The recurrence of this theme of desperate search, for something perhaps symbolic, perhaps half imagined, is central to his greatest work: 'Can I have £50 to mend the shed.'

Can I have Fifty pounds to mend the shed?
I'm right on my Uppers.
I can pay you back
When I get this postal order from Australia
Honestly.
Hope the bladder trouble's getting better.
Love, Ewen?

Other Poems: 'My new cheque book hasn't arrived', 'Lend us a bob for a wee refreshment, hen', 'What's twenty quid to the bloody Midland Bank?', 'I'll just have to cut down on food'.

Prize Winning Poem to the Arts Council: 'Can you lend me a £1000 quid?' (This poem won £1)

mongychops