Topic: Welcome!

[Aubrey Barkus]

Well, well, well!  How lovely to be here on a “computer” for the first time.  
Allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Aubrey Barkus, 65, Bachelor of this parish!  Young “Neil,” the Captain of this sturdy ship of the line is a distant relative (on my Great Aunt’s side) and he enquired whether I would be willing to share my years of experience with you all.  Perhaps to offer some avuncular advice to the younger sort about to set out on life’s great voyage.  As the Chinese proverb says, even the longest journey starts with a single step, and maybe with my hand resting lightly on your young shoulders I could help you take that step in the right direction!  Though I do wonder what that oriental sage would say if you started your journey by HOPPING!  Narrow his inscrutable yellow eyes still further I’d hazard!
I digress.
Let me tell you a little more about myself.  Forty years in the theatre as a dresser and personal friend to all manner of “names.”  The things I’ve seen!  The lessons I’ve learnt!   I know from personal experience that if you’re going to lie under a glass-topped table after hours backstage at the Whitehall Theatre in 1968, to watch a lady lay her rope of dirt, make sure the glass is in place before you continue!  A very well known theatrical knight fell foul of that pretty caper, I can tell you!
Hmm.  I feel I may have inadvertently crossed a boundary there.  The very last thing I want would be to offend.  I may have seen some filthy muck in my life.  The transgressions might be burned into my memory in “letters of flame a mile high” as young John Osbourne said in 1956 but no need to share it with your delicate sensibilities.  (Osbourne used to piss sitting down by all accounts.  Hah!).  
I apologise.  I really do.
I might have seen some revolting crimes against nature, but no reason to pollute your youthful virgin minds with my “back-catalogue” of shame.  
I may have had a small sip of the drink, I confess, to help me cope with this new-fangled technology.  Just a small amount to help everything along
fingers like raw pork sausages, except all very sweaty.  Yellow nails.  Yellow, cracked nails.
Questions please  Come on;I am yuor oracle, cunts!!




Edit: Firstly I would like to apologise for the lack of clarity towards the end of my previous “post.” I fear I had rather an excess of restorative tonic and became rather under the weather.  I can’t deny I feel in rather a brown study (note to self: check: do people still use that phrase?  Also: are Sikhs allowed on rollercoasters, and what’s the name for that part of a lady?)

Oh and I didn't make clear that though you cannot 'reply' to this 'Sticky' you can of course start new 'threads'.  I think however that only I can reply to those.  It's all very new to me and most confusing.  
Just one small sip of something to restore the balance can't harm things.

[Aubrey Barkus]

Jesus, nearly a year on.

And what have we all learnt?  "Fuck-shit-tits All" to make up a phrase from RAY TC Milland MC, iv! 
Legs redder and fatter, more margarine in the eyelashes; all that. 

It's a stitch up!

Anyone?

[Aubrey Barkus]

If you really needed to free up some space, bear in mind that Ask Aubrey hasn't seen any activity for eons!

ha Ha!  That's because these days I'm the only one who can post in here!  Special privileges and all that!

The wonderful thing about Aubreys
Is Aubreys are wonderful things!
Their tops are made out of rubber
Their bottoms are made out of springs!
They're bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy
Fun, fun, fun, fun, FUN!
But the most wonderful thing about
Aubreys is - I'm the only one!

In a misguided attempt to sort of see that through I drank some spring water (well, ok, old piddle in a wrong bottle - BIG BAD SLEEPY PISS MISTAKE) and shoved an eraser up my arse.
I then gave being "bouncy, trouncy, flouncy" and indeed, subsequently, "pouncy," a go, but got my top lip caught on the sash window lock and had to semaphore for assistance from some Pole in a reflective jacket giving it Billy-O to the road with a mechanical tamper.

I am hungry and very tired.

[Aubrey Barkus]

Well well!  The window's unexpectedly been opened to let in some light to Aubrey's world once more.  For me, anyway, none of you other fuckers can add anything (see last year's post of mine above).
It's a tired kind of light, admittedly, fighting through the nicotine smear on the window panes, and just about making it to the middle of the room to highlight suspended motes of dust. 
They are falling.  It's a slow fall, sometimes reversed by tiny currents of air stirring the dust to dance, but a fall nonetheless.  Energy draining from the system.  Entropy, that's what you call it don't you?  All the clever fellows like you boys - and girls-(let's not be sexist!) reading this.
Don't fret; Aubrey's bathetic fallacy of dust isn't global.  In fact, my world has been re-energised!  Recession? Not for some of us!!  I've been bucking the trend providing trickle-down economic support to Mr Patel and others.
But how?  Well, as they say it's who you know, not what you know.  A couple of years ago I was strolling over Richmond Bridge and saw a group of youths "happy slapping" a young man.  Some might have carried on, on the other side, but not Aubrey!  Like the Good Samaritan I weighed in and got involved!  (also, the other side was blocked by some roadworks.)
I might not have a left hook like Henry Cooper or the kung-fu skills of "Jackie" Chan but once I sit on a youth, consider that youth sat upon!
Anyway, I bumped into the victim last week - he now runs a sandwich shop, remembered me and was able to put some acting work my way!
There's more skill than you might expect portraying a large foam advertising bun.  His sales are up, I have cash monies to my name and the heat rash from the costume soon passes.  I've ignored entropy and turned the tide!  Aubrey is ahead!
I soon forgave the child who called me "a saggy fat loser."  He was right of course, but now I'm a saggy fat loser with a bottle of Jamesons and a Chicken Tikka in his Welsh dresser, so who's the winner there?!

Unfortunately I am writing this from inside the bun suit, as the fabric fastening ties seem to have become superglued together somehow.  Sabotage, I suspect.
I can get the Jamesons to my lips through the hole where I ripped away the foam chorizo, but I fear the Chicken Tikka may be more of a problem.
If anyone in the South West London area could help, please PM for my address. 

Help Free the Bun One!

[Aubrey Barkus]

Back at the top of the forum for a moment!
Update: just back from swiping a piece of brisket from the poshos who've moved in over the back wall.  You'd have been proud of me- I was like a cat, in and out of their utility room while they watched Secret Millionaire!  A cat dressed in Tesco bin liners with just a bit of sick (garlic naan plus some orange crayons) in its whiskers, not that you'd notice.  Though the man from Foxtons did.  He was showing the flat next door when I got back in. I told him I was "Just Some Performance Art."  Am trying to cook the brisket with a series of Clipper lighters (five for a pound).  To be frank, it's not going well.