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Comedy
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| Writers' Groups | |
| By BrianRobertNeal | ||||||||||||||||||
| 20 September 2006 | ||||||||||||||||||
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Despite everything i would recomend membership of these worthy institutions. The Moebius Loop Writers’ Group I, at one time; went to five writers' groups. This had slowly dropped to two. I'd persevered with the MLWG but the last meeting I went to was the final straw. As is the case with all the groups, MLWG, is a matriarchy though surprisingly male members outnumber female. "Kissmee" as I nicknamed her was very mousy for a WG Dominatrice. All groups have rules. The rule here was that you first told everyone what you had done since last month. You would circle round once. Then and only then would you read any of your writings! If I sat to Kissmee's left we would circle anti-clockwise and if to the right-no prize's for guessing. If I sat equidistant from her she would cheat and start with the person to my right or left, and then take the longest route to get to me. They've Published an Anthology and had five hundred copies printed. Maths is not Kissmee's strong point, so I kept a count of all those that had been sold or swapped. I made it less than a 100 she made it 250, however the rest were in her garage. I suggested torching the Garage, an eminently sensible suggestion. But I was told there was an excess on the Insurance Policy. So what did they talk about? Percy the Pre-Raphaelite was always selling his painters' courses that are held in his time share somewhere in France. Kissmee was always plugging day long writer's courses that never attract sufficient or at times any course members. A.One has this idea that a block busting bodice ripping extravaganza could be written based on the life of one of the 19th century's leading Civil Engineers. I must confess this idea has enflamed me:- Lady Mellissa asked the Butler to bring Isambard Kingdom in. She lay saucily across the chaise longue wearing nothing but a winning smile! When he entered she stared immodestly at him and commented, "Well sir your reputation for magnificent erection appears to be well justified" "Thank you ma'am. I always hope that I can rise to the occasion." “ Well IKB, I am offering you a new opening in an interesting position! Then there’s 10 minutes. He’ll spend anything up to thirty minutes explaining how he and his mate are doing this video extravaganza. However he had at my time of leaving not quite got round to actually filming anything. My favourite was Alligator Annie. She went round the world in search of reptiles and when at home kept a cellar full of young local Historians who were investigating her secret passages. But they had yet to come to any useful conclusions. There was Poet and it was worth going just to hear him read. He told fantastic tales about a castle in Scotland and they were as good as his poems. I miss him. Oh and I must not forget Little Earth Mother, who was a real delight. She wrote Books for tiny children and had babies. I’m not sure which was the substitute for which, but each category was as precious to her as the other. Finally there was Satchmo the Octogenarian, he’d had books on Jazz go to reprint. He’d wanted to do a PhD in creative writing but for some unknown reason he couldn’t get a grant! So why the Moebius loop analogy, well you take a lot of time to cover everything and end up exactly where your started having achieved nothing. Just like this! AMBROSIAN ACTORS “Well”, said the Ginger Whinger, least that’s what they thought he said, for it was difficult to hear as Tubby the Troubadour was picking chords on his Banjo whilst Tap Dancing. All eyes turned to Tubby. That was a mistake, cos that’s what he’d wanted all along. Happy Harry told GW, “Pipe down, you’re putting Tubby off”. Tubby stopped and resorted to banging his ring binder on the table, whilst flicking through its leaves. He’s probably doing that at this very moment. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up” exclaimed the Group’s Grumpy Geriatric. “It will soon be your turn to recycle some more aged humour that is long past its tell by date, now GW what were you saying.” GW never travelled light, in addition to a briefcase, laptop and sea chest there was always a sheath of papers covered in cat food, which he would rummage through. The room was plunged into a silence, that was broken when GW uttered the phrase, “Fuck It.” He continued, “I’ve this important letter that you all need to see, but I’ve left it at home.” Happy Harry read a poem and beguiled with Gulls. He has a fine eye for detail, for example he could always tell you what the Guest Hand Pump Beer was at the last ten pubs he’d visited. It would have been more but his memory span at its best was two days. Happy Harry seemed to love life and it seemed to be quite fond of him. Avia read a poem about not being very happy and then one about being bloody miserable. Then it was Grumpy’s turn. Despite everybody being poets and reading poems, Grumpy insisted in reading prose to the group. Happy Harry listened to it, as did Avia but only if she were interested in the subject matter. Grumpy started to read, “It’s called, “Ambrosian Actors” I might have said this before but do you get a sense of Déjà vu? (Obscure whimsy at its worst.)
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