July 2004
Dear Francis’s Knee
Hey, how's it going? How interesting, I've never really spoken to a knee before. It's quite scary to tell you the truth but anyways......my English teacher is a total cow! Ever since I hid her keys on April Fools day she hasn't let me be. What should I do about it?
Melissa.
Dear Melissa,
I’m very well, thanks for asking. April fools day… . . that takes me back a bit. April to be precise. I recall a time long ago when me, ‘Choppy Run MacLean’, ‘Nasty-Bluey Crumb’ and old, ‘Matted-eyes’ Ferguson, stole some air from the local library and watched as the unsuspected borrowers writhed around on the floor clutching at their throats, gasping. How we laughed as we pointed to the 'silence please' sign on the wall. And on that other occasion, when we turned ourselves inside out, scaring the previous year out of Mrs. Chiffity-Chuffty, the village 'children's story writer'. Her job was to wander around Knees Ville poisoning children’s minds with unrealistic stories.
One I remember vividly was, the haunting children's classic, 'Carsick the Cat Seemingly Makes it all Better and Eats his Shoes in the Process'. This 9000-page masterpiece was one of my favourites, the illustrations however, were of a ghastly nature and the whole thing was peppered with ‘no-holes barred’ puppet nudity. The story revolves around unsuspecting local hero 'Carsick the Cat' and his fight to bring the 'International - Monsters of Decoupage (Look Mum! No Clothes Show)' to his local village. Seen as a disruptive influence on the tranquil Dell with it’s twitching curtains and regular guillotining, he becomes a loner, eats crayons and ends up a bit too smelly for the other animals of Itchy Dell. Carsick the Cat leaves his home and sets off in his car made entirely from acidic clays, alluvium deposits and big magical daisies. It gets about three feet down the drive way and the whole thing falls apart. So, he wraps all his possessions in a used hanky and begins to walk to Hundon, where, it’s rumoured, the streets are paved with mould. On his way he befriends a likeable 19 foot tall chap by the name of Whit Dickington and the pair agree to make the dull and ‘un-scenic’, journey to Hundon together. Holding hands. And skipping.
Carsick the cat is horrified to find out that Whit is an out of work, ‘Grade 3‘ qualified marionette with a uncontrollable vinegar addiction and urges him to return to Itchy Dell no less than three times whilst posing as the speaking clock. He fails to convince Whit who is now inexplicably dressed entirely in cardboard with un-endangered birds and toothpaste stuck on to it. Whit disagrees, an argument breaks out and the pair square up for a bout of fisty-cuffs. However, in an unusual twist to the tale, they end up in bed together after a lengthy drinking session and become inseparable. This puts a halt on their bid to become Sponge Mayor of Hundon, however they do qualify for state benefit and secure an apartment overlooking an extremely intense man in a scarf, holding a box of rats. The all lived happily ever aftermath of the Second World War.
I'll never forget that story and how it affected me internally and caused the terrible sporadic ‘Beardy Circusing’ we see today in Peru.
Perhaps a ‘Sorry for stealing you keys Miss’ note would be an appropriate coarse of action, or not as the case may be, as it usually is.
Don’t be fooled,
Francis Knee.
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Dear Francis’s Knee
I need to ask you of your obvious superpowers. Your pure, handsome knee like looks prove themselves to your power, but what else can you do? Can do some kind of Hulk or Spiderman like abilities? And have you ever saved the world from utter destruction before? If yes, then what world. Please answer me and bring meaning to my pitiful and purposeless life.
Alex Mason
Dear Alex Mason,
I'm going to let you in on my super-knee powers and how I came about them. I spent many a happy day in my youth frolicking about on the water down by Knees Ville harbour. The sun would hang high in the mid day sun, shining down on us like gaseous ball of nitrogen and carbon monoxide, its formidable heat shielded only by the dappled leaves of our favourite Golf-ball tree. Every so often, we would climb to the very top and hurl videocassettes at passers by; chiefly, the French 1980’s Classic,’ Betty Beige’, the director’s cut and anything featuring Yahoo Serious. Several hours later, when the novelty wore off we would clamber down and visit 'Old man Badger', Knees Ville’s oldest and most like a badger-esque looking person to survive the horrific 1977 meltdown at the nearby wind-farm.
We would sit on his blistering front perch and ask him to recall the events of that fateful 27-hour day in all its gruesome detail, while he pottered about mixing us elaborate cocktails, foaming at the mouth and adjusting his robe.
After throttling the cat, he would begin. "Well boys, it happened like this… . ." he rasped, "At precisely 11:30am, 200 or so solar panels from the Oats & Crinkle Crisp centre for alternative energy exploded sending tiny fragments of glass in to the atmosphere, eventually falling some 6 miles east as shards of painful rain. Several of these became lodged in the turbine of a windmill at the local wind-farm, jamming the propellers and causing it to burst in to flames. The rest fell on a nearby ‘Entirely Out-Door Wounded Animal Sanctuary’. After 20 minutes or so, the intense heat buckled the main stanchions and they toppled over one by one on to ‘The Cod-Knocker’ Hydro-Electric Dam. The weight of the massive windmills combined with that of a stray bear dressed in velvet riding a glittery ecstatic moose for charity, fractured the concrete in several key areas. Within seconds the force of 8 million tonnes of pure wet water broke through and flooded the Knees Ville Valley area and surrounding ‘Noise’ and ‘Clown Shoes’ plantations. This in turn took out most of the city's Wave generating farms, recycling plants, charity shops, orphanages and old people’s homes. The knock on effect of this was to alter the coarse of Knees Ville history forever. Well, a bit longer than a week.
You see Alex that is why, as a child I was forced to eat radiation. Alternative energy proved too dangerous for a built up area. Nuclear facilities were introduced in to playgrounds and youth centres. We would sit on old man badgers perch, positively glowing. Each child from knees Ville was 'Gifted’ with a ‘special power'. Charlie Bun, my friend from Stool Street developed the ability to see Bread People, and coining the super-human phrase, “I see bread people”. Sarah So-dusty, from a across the road acquired the skill of 'Being unimpressed by certain animals and overly enthusiastic about others’. Myself? Well, I was granted the gift of being able to say the words 'I’m becoming all Lamby' under a tartan blanket in the middle of the high street. To date, I have saved the lives of 5 people with this skill.
Up, Up and Away,
Francis’ knee
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Dear Francis’s Knee
What's the lyrics to the 7:30 report?
Helen
Dear Helen,
You asked for the lyrics to the 7:30 report? Well here they are in glorious black text on white background….
"It's half past seven
Time for the 7.30 Report,
Quite serious topics like the economy.
The Dow Jones Index, Heng Seng and Futsi.
Kerry O'Brien,
At least for the meantime,
Sits and asks
Various people
Several questions that they have to answer."
(Previously unpublished lyrics to The 7.30 Report)
Sing a-long now folks,
Francis' knee.
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Dear Francis’s Knee
Is that your actual name "Francis' Knee" or do you have a proper Christian name bestowed on you at birth? What if you are Jewish or Buddist, is your proper first name still a Christian name? What do your friend's call you? How should I address you in formal situations - as Mr. Knee? What does Francis Greenslade call you? Sorry, I asked more than one question.
Howser
Dear Howser,
Unlike the rest of the human body, all knees are granted special privileges. Most of them are trivial but others give an interesting insight in to the everyday workings of your body. These include such invaluable talents as the ability to draw out of focus monkeys, win seagulls through the mail and most important of all, the God given right to choose our own Names. We knees mostly like to be referred to by our nicknames, or ‘Pet’ names, which is worrying as my pet is called Mr. Fluffy.
Your question touched me; I was inexplicably drawn to the old chest up in the attic. Quite just what 93 year old Mrs. Ramsbottomhorn was doing up there in her negligee is still beyond me. Once I’d struggled free from her net, I opened my old suitcase where upon after finding some recently banned soups, coupons to win the moon and troupe of badly dancing bald Ukrainians named, ‘All legs and no point’, I came across my old school satchel. In it, I found this remarkable photograph of our School’s, ‘Running at Mutton’ team, from 1948. I joined in 1949 shortly after this photo was taken, but here we can see some of my closest and dearest friends. I forget the names of the boys, just the knees.
Runners up: ‘1st Morningside All Bran regular knees’
Back row:- (from left)
'Crusty' Piefoot, Jam Jar Magoo, OxKnockers Johnston, Branguts Array, Seapy Fairweather, Lift-home Monsoon, Bonsai Huge, Skinny-milk Mathews, Machspeed Cathederal, Tiptop Splash, Lappland Freelasers, Draughty Boo-Boo Foot.
Front row:- (from right)
Beefy Shuntmore, Binjuice Longsocks, Brillo O’Roughly, Jim ‘Healthstore’ Letdown, Autumny Dangle (Capt.) Broxburn Lavvy, Bartholemew Pummel, Kendal Mincecake, Albert Shandy, Tepee Tugboat, Windease Patterson, Zeeby ‘museum-piece ‘Ass.
Hope this answers a few things,
Francis’ knee
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Dear Francis’s Knee
What goes well with a flayed Episiarch?
Garwinkle
Dear Garwinkle,
What goes well with a flayed Episiarch? Well, let me get my cookbook out and I’ll have a look eh? Page 45 of Murvy Yak’s all time ‘Quick Space Related Recipes for Mum’s, if your son’s new Girlfriend turns out to be one of those Freaking Veggies!’ should do the trick. Here we go, ‘Episiarch and onion in a white solar wind sauce’. Take a handful of assorted space matter, a knob of salted butter, 2 pounds of moon rocks, 4 sizable mysterious gases, 1 egg white and an a pinch of an ever increasing point in time which, in reality is space, as matter is time increasing and time expanding therefore, becomes matter. Fry that up for about 20 minutes until golden Maroon bung in onion and Hey Presto! Your hand has melted. Pour that mixture onto the bottle of wine and throw the whole thing over the neighbor’s fence. Tastes like an old dog, smells like one too but it does get the time sca…sorry, Lime scale off that old pot.
Happy cooking,
Francis’ Knee
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Dear Francis’s Knee
If there are lasers that are red, which is the colour within the light spectrum which refracts the least, would you be ale to have purple laser which refracts larger? (I think people think that red vehicles travel faster because that red part of light travels faster towards our eyes than the colour, giving the people th illusion that the other colours are somewhat "behind red" even if it is a few thousands of a nanosecond difference. Those people are dumb, it's not the atoms that travel faster, it's the dam smaller wavelengths that are red. Anyway, the statement in these brackets are way too long, so I'd better wrap it up... uh..., DIPSTICK...)
Jonzcool
Dear Jonzcool,
You know, I think you may just have a point there. Every old wife will tell you to sow seed and transplant only with a waxing, never waning moon. This may become a bit tedious after a while, especially if you are on a long journey on say, a bus or a train with no hand-gun. I read the other day in ‘New Scientists do the Washing up Illustrated’ that purple lasers in fact ‘refract lager’, not ‘larger’. Colours at the other end of the spectrum refract cocktails and spirits. They then went on state that a glass of red wine coming towards you, would be of a higher velocity than say a pint of XXXX or a traditional English Pint of Bitter. A Rum and coke would therefore be even quicker than a red wine concluding that, a gin tonic would take the most amount of time to reach you. And if you’ve ever bought the first round of drinks at a works night out, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.
Keep Them Up,
Francis’ knee
