-It makes more sense than a couple of other things.

Mad Aunt Bernards Tortoise Poetry

"The page to come and visit for a fabulously sensible intake of poetry straight from the divinest of inspiration - and it's only a bit tortoisy. A cracking good read if you're under anaesthetic."
Lord Elpus - The Guardian

Monday, July 13

SOS! I've Committed Tortoisecide!!!!

Made the gravest mistake today -
Folly is off on a Hiding Weekend
With the 'Nervous Branch' of the Girl Scouts.
Bench got all 'hissy' on the yoghurt pot phone and
I was conned into agreeing to look after Wesley.
Wesley is a Tortoise.
He looks like Douglas Hurd, thinking about something very carefully.
I'm so frustrated as he doesn't 'do' anything.
Well he did, at first. But he's gone dreadfully quiet.
Bench should have had him, as it's her daughter's pet.
But she's at a spa this week with Aunt Claymore and Cousin Girda.
Aunt Claymore is being waxed, Cousin Girda is being waned, and
Bench is having some conditioning jollop carded into her beard.
So I'm lumbered with a sedentary tortoise. He doesn't like fun.
I decided to ditch the 'flinging' idea at two o'clock, in the
Hope he might like some music,
So I put on La Tapatia radio from Mexico,
But he didn't move.
Then I did shadow puppets, made a batman mask by turning my
Hands up the wrong way over my eyes, and did the hand trick 'Here is the church,
Here is the steeple...' but the little shelled sod gave bugger all.
So I thought - food.
I had flageolet beans with goat's rue and tree bark for dinner.
And thought he might like some..........................

My shrieking classes start in a week, and I'll be done for Tortoisecide.
Imprisoned for taking the life of a small rough dry thing (by mistake), but
It won't stand up with the Cozzers.
I can't use the 'hibernation' excuse, as I did that with the last one.
I can't say he ran away, as he's got a tracker built by NASA.
I can't say he's dead because Bench will get Vom to get a
Triad to kill me.
Need options.
Have killed tortoise with either flageolet beans, goat's rue or tree bark.
Or all three.

I've blown the candles out, I'm sitting in my hedge with an emergency torch
And the Radio Times and some Bovril, because I'm in hiding until I
Know what to do. I've also got my hands over my eyes so no-one can see me.
If anyone has any suggestions, please tell me - I've still got time on my side.
Bench isn't back for three days, and Folly's weekend hiding only ends
When someone finds her.

Yours in fearful imancipation,

p.s. if anyone could post some Jaffa Cakes I'd be well chuffed. And if you have a
yoghurt pot phone, my number is St Vitus 201 (I'm on O2, so they'll fleece you for the call).

Note: The phrase 'conditioning jollop' is courtesy of mimilove whose blog has serious cowbell, man!


  1. Those tortoises are such fussy eaters. Loved: "Aunt Claymore is being waxed, Cousin Girda is being waned"

  2. Encourage Folly to attend the annual cheese rolling. Then, take said tortoise (painted pale yellow of course) along to the event, lob it down the hill, stand back and watch with glee as events unfold........
    It wont help with your problem re Folly, but as you obviously have "form", then it will give you something funny to reminisce about whilst languishing in gaol............

  3. Don't worry, heart. Weev is here. Jaffa cakes on their way - look out for small annoying chappie running around car-park flapping with small package under armpit - couriers! Also, don't panic about tortoise - expect further courier delivery from Cornish Pasty Company. I've used this ruse before and succeeded. Tried it on old Jumpy, but silly old fucker bit into it and declared it a fake, as it hadn't tasted like the last one. Forgot to salt it. Bastards! Toodle-pip!

    P.S. There's a spider crawling up your sleeve and you have twiglets in your cleavage - this is no way to greet people. Shame upon you.

  4. I have a cunning plan ,auntie.Take the chassis and wheels from a toy remote controlled car and superglue it to the underside of the tortoise. Then when they come to collect him simply use the remote control hidden in your beard to drive wesley over a cliff or under the wheels of a passing lorry.The whole thing will look like a terrible accident and you will be in the clear.

  5. Wesley must take responsibility for his/her own inactions. If this matter ends up in court I'd be very happy to plead for you.

    I can see why the Jaffa cakes are needed. Your arms must be feeling the strain with all that hiding .... I'm trying to arrange a flyby of the Jaffa Cake Display Team - their aim is quite good so they they should land on your eyes balls sticky side down ....... keep strong!

  6. Upon reflection I notice that I am staring at myself but no matter on with the comment
    Scrape all the ends from every match at your disposal and place strategically on the garden path in a small heap.
    Next catch your tortoise
    If you are unable to do so, then problem solved because it isn't dead, it merely was stunned at your radiant beauty
    If you were able to then invert said tortoise and glue the striking strip from any matchbox to hand
    Next attach a leash to a suitable collar around the scruff of the tortoise
    Place the rigor tortoise atop the aforementioned pile then hand the leash to Bench or Folly
    Then startle said handlers say by pointing to the sky and shouting
    "Look out one of the Jaffa Cake Display Team id falling from the sky toward your very bonce"
    Naturally they will be unable to resist ducking for cover (Folly will know a safe place, for certain sure) or flinching at the very least. Their involuntary action will cause the leash to be be tugged and the resultant friction will ignite the match heads
    What a result? Flash! Wesley goes up in smoke and it is clearly, once the smoke dissipates, their fault
    Now, stand there with an indignant look upon your physog and reproach them.
    Don't reproach too closely, lest the flames are still burning.

  7. Of course when I say glue the striking strip from any matchbox to hand
    I mean
    That which is readily available and not YOUR hand
    but to the exposed underside of said inverted tortoise

  8. If you do not think that this ruse will work then please return said proffered solution to the Friction section of your local library

    I've done it again

  9. Ah the restorative cake of Jaffa...may I suggest a topical application to said/dead tortuss...(serving suggestion if you will)

    Donking my cowbell vigorously in appreciation of your magnificence x

  10. What can I offer in response to your cry for help that hasn' already been covered by the admirable comments posted earlier? You certainly have a dilemma on your hands MAB but I am sure you will cope dear. You could always plead insanity if it does go to court!

  11. I'll get some Jaffa cakes over to you as soon as poss. Perhaps they might revive the poor bugger? It must have been the Batman mask - I think he had a stroke.


  12. Recette

    Petit pâté de tortue
    Avec les twiglets et Jaffa Cakes
    Dans la jus de Genévrier à la gin

    Scoop the lightly charred flesh from a freshly but lightly killed tortoise
    Set the shell aside
    Take one cup of Twiglets and two Jaffa Cakes (ensuring that they have first fallen chocolate side down from a great height)
    Bring together and blend with the back of a tablespoon
    Introduce the tortoise meat and knead thoroughly until the consistency of muck has been achieved
    Take the shell and carefully fill with two or eight generous measures of gin
    Now throw the muck over the left shoulder carefully avoiding all unnecessary cleavages, or is it cleavi?
    (ideally having entered the freestyle tortoise throwing event at the world acclaimed Toad Fondling Festival in Maiden-Up-The-Duff, Fife)
    (you could even cheat and enter the toad throwing section too as only a trained pathologist would know that it was not toad meat)
    Ignore the tossed salad
    Savour greedily the gravy until all conscience is lost or preferably until all consciousness is lost.

  13. I think Prof. Yaffle and his recipe should be featured on Masterchef or maybe Saturday Kitchen. I'm fed up with chilli flakes and jus.

  14. Here I am ‘neath my shell
    Not feeling frightfully well
    When all at once! I am force fed
    With flageolet beans, goats rue, tree bark etc.
    Till I am dead

    Above my corpse a speech balloon
    Indicting the culprit, a Corneese (Cornish) loon
    My murderer to detect, is really not that hard
    Look no further than Mad Aunt Bernard

    Pst! Rozzers, She has pre cons

    I once had an aunt Girda
    Bloody fan tastic
    Though in the event of any paternity claims, I deny all.

  15. Well I never knew the old bird had it in her! In fact I'm not even sure that Girda is actually a woman....
    Many thanks for your helpful suggestions, I in fact opted for Feck's idea of using a chassis and wheels from a toy car. It worked. Although I didn't have a toy car, so I used the parts from the Mobile Library that comes once a month. Bit big, I know, but Folly was totally convinced that 'Tortie' was running away.
    Thank the lord's teeth - I is in da clear and got away with it, and don't know nuffink.
    Now I only have to worry about the charge for criminal damage to the library van.....

  16. MAB
    Whatever the charge, claim ministerial immunity and claim it against expenses

  17. Don't worry about the library van, Duckie. What's the worst the Cozzers can do - Book you?!

    Glad this silly porpoise nonsense got sorted out. Never could understand why you took the poor little bugger out of his bowl - served no porpoise!

    P.S. If you're not hiding in the hedge any more, can I have my Jaffa Cakes back. The Jehosephats Peepies are due in a minute. They're tougher than the other lot, and if I don't feed them, they bark at me through the letter box. I tried driving off, but they chase me and bite my tyres. I'm scared.

  18. OI!! Are you there, you old bat!! Well get on and bloody write something will you - we're getting BORED!!!! It's no use you ponsificating around the countryside in yer vomit stained sequined rara skirt - get on thy computer and WRITE, damn you!!

    (Y'a'right ar kid?)

    I KNOW - but I'm thick and I can't think of anything to write on mine, so I thought I'd come over here and light a rocket up yer flute.

  19. I don't want anything up my flute, thankyou....and yes the weekend down zummerzet went nice, and that. I learned enough of the language to be able to question someone's sanity - Bist thee outta thee bloody mind?

  20. Ladies..... Ladies...... LADIES...... come on, calm down, we don't want this to escalate into a "cotton gussets at dawn" incident, do we????

  21. MAB, I have a non-tortoise related award for you over at mine, to recognise your great standing in the International (Tortoises Exempt) Blogging Community...

    As an ex-pat from the World of Bewilderbeest, I recognise a fellow sufferer, er, traveller!

    I hope you can come and get it, even if you don't 'do' awards - That is fine... xox

  22. You could speed pickle the body in Vinegar and Amphetamine sulphate. Cunningly replace it in the shell. There will be no smell, so when Bench gets back you can say the tortoise is fine but sleepy. Ask bench to put some food in for it, then when it's finally discovered that it is deceased you can blame Bench for poisoning it with Amphetamines which will be detected at the tortopsy!!!

  23. Opposed magnets lighten that carapace down the lane....or floats, or antigravity....or the wishes of deluded human children can power our giggle of a journey a bit further along, my Sistah.
    Aloha, A Sea Turtle

    Comfort Spiral

  24. I am fluent in it my dear
    Thanks for putting my mind at rest, thought you was slain in a vendetta over the demise of the tortoise, henceforth known as Tartaruga Omicidio Lunedi

    Should you answer a knock at the door bell (do hedgerows have electricity?) and there before you is a man in a dark suit, dark broad brimmed hat and sunglasses carrying a violin case, he is either an enforcer or an MP on the fiddle (yes I know that that is highly improbable as they are such fine upstanding chappies and all that)

    If you can't run despite this fright, try Senokot or prunes, then bravely rub under your chin with the back of your curled index finger, twice and only twice else you indicate an offer of marriage and a promise of a dowry of five thousand Jaffa cakes, either past their sell by date or slightly nibbled and dribble upon, then (unless you have false teeth) hook your thumb under your top front teeth, then flick forward.

    They will then leave you alone, fearing that your sanity is questionable, with no chance of a profit.

  25. I am astounded at the high standard of discourse always to be found on this blog and expect to meet you all at the next Cheltenham Literary Festival. You will recognise me quite easily as I will be carrying a rolled up copy of 'Knitted Tortoise Cosies'.

  26. Aha!

    You fell into my trap

    You must be the said enforcer from the cosie nostra, what have you done with me fine feller of a lad MAB?

  27. Mother, will you knit me a tortoise cosy? Will you?