Poetry Hallway - Sunday Sonnet

What do you do with your weekends, human? Do you hide from the world and nurse your bruises? Beware! prefers the outward bound approach. Stride on. Get some thin air through those thickly-stuffed nostrils. Tufts of moss in the turn-ups, freshly pressed faeces on the stout shoes. Shoo! Get out of my restaurant. Goodfellas American Pizzas, made in Ireland. Christ. It's all lies.



Tonight's poetic gem heart is a sad indictment of modern Britain. How does anybody get anything done when we're all so ruddy cynical and depressed?

Sunday, bloody Sunday (Andy Brain).

Sunday Sonnet by Andy Brain

A weekend, solo, yawning with options.

I ponder protests. Projects. Games. Girls. Guilt.

Some respite from the rain, though now too late
for our recycling bins, infusing slow.
On sodden Sundays such as this, a roast
restores good faith; and crumble sets the seal.
No such succour, sadly. Sit-ups rendered

pointless by crisps, ice-cream, packet crap. Still,

with purring Hoover under my command,
I prance about this sty, chase flies, chase flies.
Catch myself in the mirror. Don't like it.
No muscle on this frame; pale, flaky, twigs
and overspilling head. Tired teeth retreat.
A weekend, solo, empty and soulless.



"Prozac-ah! It's a good life." - Mark E Smith

The Twitwich Effluence - Rail

If you should find yourself travelling towards the town of Twitwich... don't. If you should find yourselves within its borders... too late. Whenever you arrive, though, rest assured that Twitwich Town Council will be grappling with the issues of the day, in the Town Hall they used to own and are now renting back.

Twitwich Effluence - short form #02 (written/illustrated by Andy Brain)

The Twitwich Effluence - Leave

Welcome to Twitwich. This noted market town has had many favourable mentions in the national press, for its drive, ambition, its retail potential, its steely reaction to a town-wide arson epidemic, its upbeat response to syringes in the park and turds in the pond, and its extreme focus on maintaining existing business links in the face of an entire lack of opportunities, skills or intelligence. Twitwich Town Council is the jewel in the crown, the joule in the engine, the Jul in the calendar. Working hard for you, one twelfth of the year.

Twitwich Effluence - short form #01 (written/illustrated by Andy Brain)

Nase & Abel - Digital Gods, part 3

Abel begins proceedings with Anextiomarus but... language barriers.

naseandabel-shortformat#8-page03 (written and illustrated by Gareth Monger)

Nase & Abel - Digital Gods, part 2

Abel transports Nase to the Datascapes of Anextiomarus with a view to getting Nase's data backed up. Seemingly Abel likes to take precautions.

naseandabel-shortformat#8-page02 (written and illustrated by Gareth Monger)

Nase & Abel - Digital Gods, part 1

naseandabel-shortformat#8-page01 (written and illustrated by Gareth Monger)

Nase & Abel - The Shakespeare-Only Speakers' Forum

The Shakespeare-only Speakers' Forum is a lexi-quagmire for poor Nase to navigate. As ever, Abel, the post-with-the-most, is on hand to lend guidance...

naseandabel-shortformat#7-page01 (written and illustrated by Gareth Monger)

Notes

This eight-frame strip is actually eight postcards which were dispatched to a Nase & Abel reader over the course of a two-week tonsilectomy-recovery period.

Nase & Abel - Transportation Safety Board of Canada: Air

Random code results in predictable confusion. Luckily, Abel is on hand to force sense out of the situation.

naseandabel-shortformat#6-page01 (written and illustrated by Gareth Monger)

Poetry Hallway - Harvest Festival

If there's one thing that characterises rural England in Autumn, it's the timeless sight of sweaty, burly locals stalking the fields, scything away at anything and everything that moves. The remains are occasionally interred in unmarked graves, but more likely cooked up into tasty dishes to be served up during the traditional harvest celebrations. With this in mind, Beware! tasked its resident poets to whittle down some suitable verses on the subject of autumn. These are the pitiful responses we received.

Wiccan harvest queen. (Andy Brain)

Kerbside Aspiration by Andy Brain

Islington harvest?
Premature mortality.
Every breath you take.

They get everywhere.
Soot soup ferments in the lungs.
Great work, this. Medals?

Cold now on a slab.
Malignant neoplasm.
Airway sabotage.

Diesel: Death's plan B.
"Make something better" ad spot -
Too good to be true.

Particulate trap.
Pulmonary pinpricking.
Pomp. Promises. Phlegm.

Culpable smooth suits.
Statistics swallowed, suppressed.
Countless needless deaths.

Years that should have been;
Lifetimes just miles on the clock.
Empty still the dock.


One in October by Archibald Oulipo

1

Soft mist and propagation;

Other God-given goods too.

He created the earth, yet

he will destroy the wine and

lotus-thatched women's teams;

Apple retorts, doubtless mossed

Summer fruits, ornamental

Oyster fat and forecast oil.

Organization of tools; 

Other promises installed.

Flowers for Maya; the day 

may not be able to stop

a summer full and hanging.

2

Sometimes, this feeling is right for you?

Sometimes, look elsewhere, other time-zones.

Results obtained are of negligence

to the hair-soft spiritual life;

Sierra ship stats, sure, or have a nap.

Groom-calm the prices your way; they say

Interest no more holds the whole country;

Always clean, always - burn the excess,

particularly the upsetting;

Patients' destination has cedar: 

A missed call will remain ever missed.

3

It started in the spring? In fact, what? 

Because music - narrow corridor,
Wide orange vista of light - marries

for him though, dead flowers, rats, horseflies,

The game went slightly pink, ragged, dry.

Infected mosquitoes' pain and song -

Willow Stream, live and dead, air and light,

New Year installation already?

The Hajj makes even Frasier dance;

Now craft regret with red breast pulsing;

Twitter and soft collected volumes.

Just Rewards for Hard Workers by Limpit Smike

Laying back or sprawling forward,
Upon my precious country sword,
The hard, bold land I've seen betimes,
On photos whilst in richer climes.
Those less fortunate than myself,
Those without the gifts of verse.
They surely have it so much worse.
They scratch a living from the land.
Britons, can we not understand?

What of the farmer, does he care?
Of his riches does he share?
No. No. No.
Daft and wrong, daft and wrong.
Force those workers to sell their bodies?
Sell them like whores for mere pennies?
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Proud and strong, proud and strong.

If I could employ them all I would.
I would shelter them inside my hood.
I would scrub their nails to cleanse from dirt.
I would mop their brows to ease their hurt.

Own the land, own the man.
Cherish the land, cherish the man.

It is my duty to share in my good fortune,
So many forthright thoughts I must importune,
Must press and push to enter into their minds,
And make sure nothing bad is left in the behinds.

How to Do a Harvest by Bobby Robert

Sneak into the farmer's field,

Drop your drawers and drop your yield,

Wait til the crime is revealed,

Send a selfie shitty smirk.

Nase & Abel - Things to Come

The Beware! Encyclopaedia of International Celebrity - Sepp Blatter

Who in this transient, pitter-patter world really seeks fame? The sensible amongst us are more interested in power. Money obviously comes first, as it can buy everything else, but power is surely second on the list. However, power perhaps works best when it's not exposed to the harsh lightbulb of celebrity, or we may end up with our careful sandcastles eroding around us, as we hastily try to repack their foundations. And what of today's celebrity? What does he seek?

Sepp Blatter (Gold Trinket Chief)

Shifty Blatter.

This titan amongst minnows. This king of junkets. This septic warrior. This Blatter.

Born plain Joe Vipstick (March 10, 1936) in the University of Lausanne, he graduated with a diploma in dramaturgy and made useful contacts in law enforcement industries. The young Joe developed an unquenchable love for the manly sport of football. He loved the kicking, the heading, and the handling, but yet he had a hard vision: a vision of higher revenue, extended layers of management, increased corporate sponsorship, agency fees, and a sprinkling of old-man glamour. Indistinguishable from any other girl between about 1948-1971, in 1972 Joe cut off his pigtails and indulged this taste for power play. He joined the Swiss Journalist Association of Sports, the International Olympic Committee, the Freemasons, the Knights Templar, and finally took the FIFA presidency after undermining the previous leader. Mark down August 8, 1998 in your diaries; tear it out and throw it away. Blatter's expertise in satellite communication, global engagement, and silky-smooth backhanders, ensured the continued success of this bloated charabanc. Blatter had realised that the way to engage the next generation was through money. He was the first to notice untapped financial markets in South-East Asia and Africa, where business leaders and dictators were keen to exchange money for favours and attention-diverting sporting spectacle. Blatter split into two and "Sepp" maintained the public face, while "Joseph" brokered deals in private jets and late-night casinos. He succeeded in breaking in virgin territories with the powerful thrust of commerce, insider knowledge and the symbolically bloated "freedom glass". South Africa, Brazil, Russia and Qatar all indulged, at the same time undermining trust, public interest and employment conditions for ancillary and construction workers.

Shagged Blatter.

FIFA In The New World

"Style and panache is very important to bring the great football into Asia and (stable parts of) Africa. Athletes who have mental discipline can become educated types. Lavish life is to the betterment of law, and, ha, ha, Sepp has your best principles in mind. The Fates all agree that smart communication modulates reality and adjusts your heart. With this living theatre, you can enjoy having fun. Who doesn't enjoy having fun? But then it comes time to comply." This confused the English, who pointedly do not enjoy having fun, and only comply under restraint in a darkened room once an hourly fee has been handed over.

Stressed Blatter.

Blatter's dislike of the English stems from a 1992 Italian junket (funded by Silver Fox Berlusconi, 38-46-42) being disrupted by a bored Paul Gascoigne who set off the hotel sprinklers and vomited in the pool. In the coming years, an outraged Joseph undertook a stealth campaign to disrupt the nation's favourite game (behind cricket), leaking details of Terry Venables' back-room dealings just as he became England manager; conning Southampton boss Graeme Souness into signing a ludicrous no-hoper, Ali Dia, by giving fake testimonials in a succession of false voices (including his later rival David Ginola); giving free psychic advice as "Madam Blotto" for Glenn Hoddle; and poking holes in Steve McLaren's brolly.

In response to criticism that football exploited talented children before leaving them on the scrap heap, drunk and confused, Blatter arranged for 41-year-old Africans to sign up again as youth players. "A job for life". Who can argue? But football is backwards, and it was pointed out that 41-year-old "youths" would prevent 17-year-old youths from getting a game, as well as being awfully confusing, especially once they reach 65 and go round for a third time.

Zip Blatter.

FIFA In The Real World

Nowadays, Blatter has brought a long-needed edge to the round game of football by crossing it with the successful detective genre. Actors like Jack Warner (Dixon Of Dock Green) have been brought in for star cameos, with Jeffrey Webb of the Caymans giving a island-sized performance: "Prison again? No you Polack! Today we are going to heaven". Well-acted corruption trials in the United States (late for the party again) allow Blatter to perform his party trick as pantomime villain. "FIFA has responsibility for not only Christmas, but also Easter. You understand? Don't tug too hard at the golden tablecloth, or the golden eggs will be broken on the floor" (these being the Mitre Delta Golden Eggs, not available at Sports Direct).

Murdoch Blatter (mutation).

German satirical magazine Landlust published a swiped Blatter diary entry: "They still don't understand FIFA. Perfect organisation. Its structural perfection is matched only by its hostility. I admire its purity. A survivor... unclouded by conscience, remorse, or delusions of morality." On Newsnight, Jeremy Paxman challenged Blatter fourteen times to confirm if he threatened to overrule Gordon Taylor. "I'm not wrong, it can prove to, prove to everyone that was bad, but not what he is, what am I, broken? What are you? I do not know the meaning of the question. I do not know the meaning of the question!"

Happy Blatter.

Five victims of FIFA were found drugged in a Jamaican titty bar. "Evil... needs to change what it can. And He was right, but I just nod when questioned. I'll take you to it now. You want power?"

Blatter has been studied hard. Vladimir Putin is an influential contamination. There is talk of relocating FIFA to St Petersburg. "Previously I used to recommend a more modern image, but this is football. Requirements are simply profit, international duty, and credulous fans." Putin called for US airlines to bankroll FIFA's education unit, if they suddenly loved football so much. Meanwhile, at the old FIFA HQ in Zurich, comic singer Leee John (from Imagination) was arrested for publishing blasphemous satirical cartoons on fake banknotes. In defence, he sang it was "just an allusion".

Angelic Blatter.

Blatter slapped down a broadside to Pope Francis I: "I own your gold cross, and you will bless me one day in heaven, which is built by FIFA people, but believe me: football gave me faith in the power of hell, and there is all the approval, on this world or the next." Wherever the struggle takes him, one thing is clear: "Sepp" Blatter is shining, and a new logo for football.

Recommended listening: FIFA Broadside by Keshco



Entry text: Adrian Darvell
Editor-in-Chief: Winston Obogu

Corrections, omissions, questions? Please leave any COQs in the comments.

Readers' Letters

Beware! Gets Mail!

Nine-year-old Istead Hunwicks writes in with a question about guest reviewer Dex Diabolo's recent review of Peter Davison's shitty trash manifesto, The Hunt For The Ptero-Dactyle Apostates.

Beware! says...

Well, Istead, one can only hope. It's worth noting that Mr. Hasselhoff had legal bills to pay, so was simply chancing it. On the other hand, Mr. Davison has his work cut out on the convention circuit, so we're pretty sure he'll be busy answering questions about whether or not he's still in touch with Adric. - B!

Station of Critical Review by Kennedy Hiscox-Wormegay with Dex Diabolo: The Hunt for the Ptero-dactyle Apostates by Former Doctor Peter Davison

A Note From Beware!

Long-time subscribers to Beware! The Zine will note a different tone in today's article. Unfortunately our full-time reviewer, Kennedy Hiscox-Wormegay, is currently receiving treatment for the effects of marsh fever and opium abuse. Whilst we are pleased to report that he is responding well to treatment, it will be some time before he is able to pen reviews again. Until then, we'd like to introduce our guest reviewer, Dex Diabolo, who is on loan to us from crappy ufology conspiracy blog, The Silver Disc - which we're not going to link to. You know the kind of head-case who sits next to you on the bus and insists on telling you how and why 9/11 was an inside job? They almost certainly subscribe to The Silver Disc. And as much as we didn't want to hand over the reviewer reins to Dex, he's all we could get. And, unlike Kennedy, he can string a sentence together.

From Timelord To Fringe Scientist

Up until the mid '80s, Peter Davison was best known as the fifth incarnation of The Doctor, titular character of the BBC science fiction series Doctor Who. However, since surrendering his position as 'gorgeous, young thing' to Colin Baker, Davison has cultivated an unhealthy interest in alternative-scenario palaeontology, penning several books on the subject and maintaining several blogs dedicated to the rapid publication of his unusual ideas. He has attracted much criticism, with dinosaur and pterosaur workers claiming that he is simply bi-passing the peer review process, though he has, on occasion, achieved in this area. Davison has also capitalised on his popularity with his legions of Doctor Who fans in order to force his unusual ideas out into the mainstream; after all, if they'll buy it...

Trash Fiction

The Hunt For The Ptero-dactyle Apostates is Davison's first foray into fiction and, if we're honest, it's mind-blowingly odd. We at Beware! HQ wouldn't have been too surprised if Davison had penned a story about oddly-proportioned aerial reptiles, zipping around the skies of an alternative-timeline Great Britain during the 1940s, but what we got was something entirely different. Davison offers up what can only be described as a semi-autobiographical medieval thriller, where he occupies the role of 'Witch-Finder General', tasked with rounding up those pterosaur workers who fail to adopt his take on palaeo research, putting them on trial and torturing and executing people as he sees fit. It's something of a bloodbath: his constantly-updated findings - and his certainty that each update is correct - mean that it's difficult for other workers to keep up with what is palaeontologically 'legal'. Many of them fall foul, and are subsequently put to death. Adorning the pikes of 'The Tower Of Lagerstatt', we find the heads of notorious traitors and heretics Marcus Wittleton, Bishop Darryl Gnash, Sir Michael Harb-Beeb and the mad monk, David Aherne. It's very much like Game Of Thrones, but with more violence and the flying reptiles are less convincing.

Thinly-Veiled Recruitment Literature

The pace falters about halfway into the first chapter as the tone shifts from trashy novel to political manifesto. One anonymous reviewer remarked that The Hunt For The Ptero-dactyle Apostates was "reminiscent of Cornwall's Camelot Castle Hotel. People book into the hotel for a bed for the night, are subsequently forced to endure terrible, terrible artwork by one of the hoteliers, and are then bombarded with Scientology recruitment literature. Castle Camelot Hotel and Davison are two baby legumes from the same troubled pod."

The Hunt deviates so violently from B-movie-esque storyline to paranoid rant that it's as if two different books have been spliced together, almost mid-sentence. Unfortunately, it remains stuck in this pseudoscientific rut for the remainder of the book, painstakingly dissecting every remark, email, blog article and manuscript ever released by conventional scientists, naming and shaming throughout. It's a long and tedious effort; Peter Davison clearly suffers from some serious science envy. Maybe it was his years as a sci-fi poster boy which led to his inability to distinguish fact from lunatic fiction, or that he had spent every waking moment surrounded by legions of fanboys and yes-men. Whatever the reason, the former-Timelord-turned-internet-pest has been the scourge of conventional science for the last decade, and The Hunt appears to be one last ditch attempt to discredit professional rivals and win over those who hadn't already declared their unconditional love during his stint in Doctor Who.

Nase & Abel - Frauds, Fakes, Lies, Mistakes

Abel confronts Nase on his sudden interest in cryptozoology websites; fills him in on some aspects of human gullibility.

naseandabel-shortformat#5-page01 (written and illustrated by Gareth Monger)

Nase & Abel - I Flippin' Love Science

Nase & Abel mull over Elise Andrew's need to empty her potty-mouth on the Internet.

naseandabel-shortformat#4-page01 (written and illustrated by Gareth Monger)

Viagra For Gastropods

Don't eat the blue ones (if you're a gastropod).

Who wants garden pesticides anyway? (Gareth Monger)

Baking Bonanza With The Two Bobs - St Clement's Cake

You're watching Cookstyle UK, hawking sugar and fat to students, the unemployed and elderly since 2008. Nobby "Bob" Lyons (ex-doctor, shifty) and Bobby Robert (ex-patient, cynic) are in the show-kitchen doing impersonations.

Bobby: (twirls an egg whisk and potato masher) Waargh exterminate you up the ass til you bake properly.
Nobby: (puts his frameless glasses on) A-ha, as I was saying to the producer, a-ha, I do have a rather unctuously pleasing joke about butter, ah, but I don't want it spread around.
Bobby: You getting hot and cross in the mouth about butts again?
Nobby: St Ivel, patron saint of the dinner table - ooh - ah - is a distant relative of today's holy of holies.
Bobby: Why's that then, they inbred?
Nobby: I bring to you -
Bobby: Syphilis.
Nobby: Ooh. I bring to you -
Bobby: Whacko drugs that make the room spin?
Nobby: Comrade(!). Oh, urgh, I've got for you the St Clement's Cake.

St Clement's Cake

St Clement's Cake masquerading as Blackbird Pie Cake. (Andy Brain)

Nobby: This is not only a cake, it's like a sticky friend. Who would have thought that with just orange and lemon, you could make an entire cake? Just half an orange, half a lemon, ooh, and what do you know, "or-an-ges and le-mons," -
Bobby: (turns) I'll start on the lemon.
Nobby: State of the membrane. With lemony gluten, a very mild palette and faint flavour, all you can try to do is to make this a better cake. But the Two Bobs have done the hard work for you! "Oranges and lemons" is of course slang for the citrus mouthwashes available in spunk clubs for those engaged in anal rimming. You swish the orange bottle beforehand to add tingle, and the yellow bottle afterward to add hygiene, and as a doctor with certificates I can assure you the whole thing is safe. "Oranges and lemons - the bell-end sent clemence", ooh it's very catchy, like a brain installation. It reminds me of my nan's facial cake, and some cakers use a bar of elderly shavings. It's... an edible lullaby in the right hands.
Bobby: I'll start on the orange now.
Nobby: You can reduce it, reduce it, to a thimble! But more than that, you want a very nice and beautiful cake. So don't. Sponge freezing is trite, so forget that, for this lemon sherbety mess. So, keep your fingers moist and help pull a long beautiful spurt. This recipe also makes sweet muffins.
Bobby: Variety's not dead.

NOBBY'S ST CLEMENT'S CAKE RECIPE:

1. Turn around and put your oven on.
2. Heat the room to the same temperature with a flat bread and a large bowl inside, then remove and cream butter and sugar into 9 inches of it. Brush it all about. Eat the flat bread for energy.
3. Find a small egg and roll it in flour and sawdust using Nobby's patented wrist action.
4. Now we need the rest of the flour, baking powder, metal microblebs, grilled cheese, and yes the lemon juice, thank you Bobby. Fold it all into the mixture.
5. Park it like a bicycle in the oven for 20-25 minutes or less if cold, and grab the reins of the world through your own combination of fun activities. I like to dice with danger by reaching for big jugs on the top shelf. Good practice for the newsagent's, eh lads?
6. In a large bowl, get some bile oil. We're making several smaller features from just this oil and sugar. Even after dinner, you'll need to add bulk and beat well.
7. Every third cup must be divided between anything pink and all other foods, and then you add a hint of rohypnol to the pink bits and whatever you enjoy to everything else.
8. Get hold of a casting directory and lure your actresses with promises of a big part... plus refreshments. Make sure there's some butter left over for later in the evening.
9. Photostat your brown mushroom, it's perfectly legal and reduces the embarrassment of making yellow sponges. Remember, pink covering will yield to a rotating nozzle head if you put it in right.
10. Re-butter, add cream, a bird, and Aldi Value sponge cake. To protect your fingers, use a mallet to knock the bird into place. (If you don't have a bird to hand, Springwatch has good tips.) Carve it out like a nest, bolstering the mouth and nose with toast made from ashes. Spray it anything but pink. 
11. Beauty up the bread on the bottom layer with your protein solution. You may need a guide funnel and strap ring. (Even if it's not perfect, you know it's there.) 
12. Serve without regrets, but with a good backup supply of Cialis and Horny Goat Weed. 

BOBBY'S PAM ST CLEMENT RECIPE:
1. Grab a card from Nobby's stub.
2. Go down to an East End pub.
3. Fill yourself with lovely grub.
4. Blame it on a hacked Home Hub.

Next time: Flatten the competition with tractor roll.

Poetry Hallway - Unexpected Item In Bagging Area

Pile 'em low, sell 'em short, ignore iambic pentameter. That's our three-pointed strategy at Poetry Hallway, and by God if it's not working. You could try to argue otherwise, but you'd be wrong. We don't so much thumb our noses at tradition as yank the things off and thrust the bloody masses right up its timid traditional normal-nosed face. The joys of cartilage.

Look sharp now! We are banister-grippingly proud to showcase a guest poet in our slim auditorium today; Leicester's very own Andrew Walton. Shuffle along now.

Unexpected item in bagging area

Do you have a Nectar card?
System can be frustrating to some shoppers.
Are you using your own bags?
Growth is projected to steadily rise.
Keep customers happy.
Approval required.

Your call is currently number six in the queue. Please continue to hold.
Reduce the length of checkout lines and wait times.
Your call is very important to us, please hold.
Minimizing the stress on employees.
We are currently experiencing high call volumes.
Please call back later or continue to hold.

Please insert cash, or select payment type.
The salaries of multiple cashiers can quickly add up.
Notes are dispensed below the scanner.
Lower overhead costs.
Providing customers with the service they need.

Many customers don’t feel comfortable with the process:
Dealing with a faceless machine.
Customers enjoy a brief conversation,
Prefer to have a one-on-one interaction with cashiers.
Thank you for using Sainsbury’s self-checkout.

[Found poetry – automated voice commands from self-service checkouts; telephone answering services and http://www.businessbee.com/resources/profitability/the-pros-and-cons-of-using-self-checkouts/]

If you'd like to support Andrew Walton's poetry, a sensible way would be to buy his latest collection, 'Little Green Poetry', available here. http://www.lulu.com/shop/andrew-walton/little-green-poetry/paperback/product-21708160.html

Baking Bonanza With The Two Bobs - Chess Cake

Nobby "Bob" Lyons (bespectacled scourge of the NHS) and Bobby Robert (cynic of the kebab house) have wangled themselves a slot on Cookstyle UK's low-rotation low-audience afternoon schedule. You can imagine the deficient title music.


Nobby: Oo. Ah.
Bobby: ...Crapped yesself already?
Nobby: (Stroking the workspace) This is very nice.
Bobby: Today it's salmonella pudding. You like that?
Nobby: What with the country, ah, taking to the baking... getting rude for the food... spurting for the dessertings...
Bobby: Dirty bugger.
Nobby: We decided there could be nothing better than to, ah -
Bobby: Join the bandwagon.
Nobby: It's nice to watch. But this is better because it's interactive. Yes, you too can make the recipes in this series. Now, have you ever heard that before?
Bobby: All a game to you, innit.

CHESS CAKE
Nobby: ...which leads us - oo - tactically well into our first edible. This is the chess men cake.
Bobby: I'll peel some spuds.

Chess cake not made by Nobby; Chess men not carved by Bobby (Andy Brain)

Nobby: Chess pie, a sweet, indulgent dessert, of course - I could eat it all year! Featured in "Saving Private Ryan" where a battle was planned using the innards of this very cake, the remnants of one were, ah, presented... to me by a patient, and before I'd even started dating her, this lovely treat was elected the nation's favourite. You may have many favourite sweets, but this is the only one that's also a game - apart from hide the pussy pop! So, ah, after you've had fun pressing your bits into all the tiles, a slice of this will fit in your tummy like a runny hug, and this can be, with the help of the Two Bobs, a very simple recipe to make and make again. You'll need just this yellow cake mix (available from Pound Plus), melted egg and butter in a griddle, with a leather box, to start the preparation. These four ingredients together, then get squished into a pan. What gives the amazing texture of this cake is eggshell - a tool that's easy to use but only with your right hand, because we know what the left hand gets used for...!

NOBBY'S CHESS CAKE RECIPE:
1. Turn your oven around to 300 degrees.  
2. Put non-stick spray on your hands.
3. Pour and mix the yellow cake mix (available from Pound Plus), with butter and eggshell in a large bowl, about 6 x 10-inch baking dish to eat. No, you don't eat the dish!
4. Put milk on the bottom of the pot. Use your fingertips to feel where the bottom is.
5. Disorder your cream cheese (oo-er) until smooth and soft. Add stevia, fat bubbles, a hint of rohypnol, and turn your egg timer over now! Shell and pour the mixture into a soft line, like a dog sausage. Bake in the oven for 20-25 minutes. The exact structure will be best serviced in whirly circles.
6.Taking spray paints, spray on the characteristic white and black shapes of a chess board.
7. Place a chocolate bar on top. Leave this under a hairdryer for a few minutes until the chocolate has dribbled down the sides. Repeat until you've done this with four or five bars, but don't use Green & Black's as it doesn't heat well, or KitKat because it's not all chocolate. Swizz! 
8. Serve in congealed lumps to a credulous lady in a darkened consulting room. The local GP has an easily-bribed janitor, he lets me go in after lights out and do a whole STD clinic by myself.

And now Bobby, how about the chess men?

BOBBY'S CHESS MEN RECIPE:
1. Take some wood from Nobby's bed.
2. Sneak into a neighbour's shed.
3. Carve it up into chess men.
4. Tell the cops you were asleep.

Next time: How to gut a ferret.

Nase And Abel - The Digital Stain Of The Hopeful

Nase stumbles across the digital embodiment of the hopes of the Left...

naseandabel-shortformat#3-page01 (written and illustrated by Gareth Monger)

Poetry Hallway - Poverty Knocker

Five pounds please! Tonight's Poetry Hallway is falling apart and we can't get it fixed unless you pay. I said we can't get it fixed unless you pay.

Well?

I'm waiting...

LIMPIT: Ahem.

Oh have it your own way. Keep your coat on. It's fair to say that poetic stalwart, Limpit Smike, has been stockpiling his ideas recently -

LIMPIT: Is it time for one of mine now?

Yes, in a moment, we'll be -

LIMPIT: Because I notice you print all of... Croyland's poems, and none of mine.

Well that's not quite true, we had one of yours just a few -

LIMPIT: I'd like to say something now.

OK that's fine. Here's one about the poor.

LIMPIT: No, not the poor - poverty. Which is spelt almost the same as poetry. As a poet I can spot these things.

Poverty Knocker by Limpit Smike

It clambers round the house

Scratches up the door

Smears up all the walls

Throws things on the floor

It's called poverty

And it wants its way

It's called poverty

I must shoo it away

It ruins all the food

Cuts off all the gas

Farts in every room

Cancels all the plans

It's called poverty

Makes monkeys out of men

Sick and thick with fleas

I must not be like them

It wears out all the threads

Sells the lovely stuff

Leaving only bread

Makes you just a scruff

Back off poverty!
 Stick your long nose right out
Lavish becomes me
I will not be a lout

I protect all my pounds

I work hard on my wealth

Money has the power

Of and by itself

I will not succumb

To cheap and dirty ways

My King Yacht will come

And I shall sail away

Poetry Hallway - Croyland Otter's Relationship With The Land

Before Beware! The Zine went live at the end of 2014, we conducted a good deal of research to determine how we should best approach our more-artistic features. Our poll showed that our audience was less interested in 'good poetry' from celebrity poets, and wanted more people drawn from the local population. Some populations have yielded a better-quality poet than others, as frequently demonstrated by our dismal Fenland rhymist, Croyland Otter.

After our roundup of his 'Ode To Richard III', Croyland felt that Beware! failed to convey the level of respect for his poetic abilities that he had perhaps come to expect from the expert panel at The International Society Of Poets. Indeed, the Richard III Society's Canadian office were more impressed than we were and, encouraged by this, we were compelled to bring to your attention this wordy wonder, which is a touching and heartfelt overview of Croyland's relationship with the land, and his frustration with wildlife protection laws.

Canada's Richard III Society: in love with Croyland. It must be true - they said as much on Twitter.

According to his accompanying telegram, Croyland entered this particular poem into a contest run at the WWT Welney Centre, achieving the level of 'commended'. As usual, Beware!'s Poetry Hallway staff ran a brief check and it seems the Croyland was actually disqualified from the contest and banned from any further involvement in Wildfowl & Wetlands Trust events. Oh well. We suspect another complaint from Croyland will soon land on Poetry Hallway's doormat.

The Sublime Setting Sun Which Licks My Fields

When ball of gold so round and hot,

Escapes the daytime like a shot;

It makes me think of things I have,

Things I'm lucky that I've got.

Like ditches, dykes and slimy holes,

And frogs and toads and beastly moles,

Or all those birds which fly above,

Which I cook to death and eat in rolls.

And then the people from the police,

Say I must obey, desist and cease,

From clobbering all those yummy birds,

Like swans and wrens and hawks and geese.

Croyland Otter

October 2014

The Beware! Encyclopaedia of International Celebrity - Scarlett Johansson

When researching a celebrity, it is vital to look beyond the established history 'they' want you to believe. Who are the famous people, really? And who are you? Do you damn well think you're God or something? Stick with Beware!'s impeccably-dredged profiles, and we'll answer both those questions.
 

Sarcastic Johansson. (Andy Brain)

Scarlett Johansson (World Picture Talk Queen)

Are you in New York for the first time? Perhaps you too will seek out Scarlett Johansson. This talented discipline of multiple truths is right across our media. Our media? Perhaps one day it will be her media.

Born in Poland and Denmark, October 22 1984 was a long day for future historians. As a child, this clear-eyed mystic befriended gusts of wind and was sensible for at least three minutes. "I'm sorry, she wants to be an actress" was the standard third-person brush-off from teachers.

New York's Silent Wood was an important food source for Scarlett's mother, who yet saw potential, repeating "I have to train your mind". Enough to send anyone potty. Scarlett went through many quality changes in seven years, implementing personal regulations on music and movement to prepare mentally for the challenges of superstardom. Crowned Metro Fire Mini VIP 1995, she auditioned at a cinema lobby and enrolled early in a law course which afforded more than 11 years of acting experience in a month. First came the north, and defective agents. Only images, emotions, and the actor Bruce Willis could steer young Johansson to a gliding future. Sean Connery and Kerry Ellis were her heroes; Willis less so. To add new players and paper cases, she gave acting lessons to urchins and gained influence points by proxy. Well, it's a means of entertainment.

Scarlett Johansson in the Movies

Wang Vs The World (1996) was the landmark legal case on which Scarlett first demonstrated power, free spirit and grace, selling an escape to the jury, and lead training 12 witnesses. The judicial community were astounded. "Change this menyeronokk woman!" But the high powers in Hollywood were listening. Scarlett was invited to audition for "Secret Debts", a process she dismissed as "just a 1998 horse race". It was a terrible tragedy. Meanwhile, rogue Christian film producers tried a rename gambit with "Scarlett 13:30", which only disappointed honest Bible scholars.

Obviously it would take more time to understand the nature and persistent grain of this future polymath. In 2001, her self-penned underdog-fantasy "Adventures of a Ghost" led to comic book stardom, and interest from the entire Greek community which persists in restraining orders and annulled marriages to this day.

Steely Johansson. (Andy Brain)

"The Fellowship of Rebecca Sun" followed, an art-house movie consisting of only two static repeated frames. Problems? Audiences thought so. Scarlett turned American; assuming three stage names to assist the vulnerable. The Manhattan University School of Manhattan bent over backwards to get Scarlett's sign-off for their atypical acting highway in 2003. She refused. There is no highway.

Scarlett changed career to develop a series of personalised translation products - launched in Laos, Vancouver, Tokyo, Luxembourg and girls, that sold without prejudice. While some of her earlier pictures were quietly changing hands for black-market release, "The Story of Translation" was an inspirational 2002 documentary on Esperanto in a changing world, involving an iconic sequence set at the Venice Film Festival featuring an aging and hesitant Bill Murray engaging strangers in this so-called universal language: "Saluton, kiel vi fartas? ...Under normal circumstances, especially with these hands, I knew I had to marry into Scarlett's games. Dio estas granda - sed li kovris min per ŝlimo". Marry he did, but once more it was annulled.

Only 27 days later, "Little Bagels" divided critics, fans and movie fondlers. Sofia Coppola had edited a whole film together from carefully-stalked CCTV footage, in stores and city centres, without actors' permission, in an attempt to quickly capitalise on the promo storm around "Translation". Scarlett's retaliation: "I fear the QEII now. I fear Walmart now. Where is the next camera? For inspiration, 1/5".

With offers of series, movies and gynaecological centrefolds, Scarlett Fever was created in many ways. Of course, all is fresh with the power of the magical story. Scarlett's new light, however, was a Toronto woman-film based on the concept of "happiness as an excellent weapon". "Bobby Robert", a sci-fi jazz fable starring John Travolta and composer Scarlett under the clever alias of "Scarlette", avoided taints of Scientology and viewers' eyes.

Relocated in New Orleans, Scarlett and her occasional glove Basil Brush saw out 2003/04 holed up with Italian fruit, Helen Hunt and Tom Wilkinson. A reconciled Sofia Coppola had joints to share, but Scarlett only desired to wake up, and abandoned her placement to teach a film course in Las Palmas.

Seductive Johansson. (Andy Brain)

Meanwhile, in 2004, for the first time, the film world realised that young women could provide recognizable characters. Scarlett is not the real price, but worth more in truth. She used her new gold Oscar lemon-stampers as part of a popular series of Tarot. "Man Of A Thousand Platinum Discs" was an excellent skewering of the media scene, co-prodded by Aaron Neville and Jack Harkness. A false run for the 2004 Democratic presidential candidate opposite Howard Dean (aka Howrad Dean) was the first sign of future stretch goals. George W. Bush: "American actressing was originally just a game. Now real men can play. Ms Johansson is a real man".

And, of course, in 2004, the concept of evolution was hotly debated. Scarlett lost a fair portion of glory embroiled in the academic literature and science goals of Oskari (creator of Jeskola's Buzz). Invited to take part in the quaint games of British society, Scarlett shunned the red carpet and went where even Marilyn Monroe had not been admitted. The dumb Calvin Klein proclaimed Scarlett "all scent"; Louis Vuitton countered with: "She is instability". With glowing testimonials like this, the call had to be coming. And it was! Legendary neurotic Woody Allen slashed his calendar with a letter-opener to accommodate Ms Johansson for the gonzo comedy "Hero Sword". It flopped! Still, "Songs and Bobby" made the opening morning of the Venice Film Festival, around which Scarlett flew slowly 61 times making onlookers vomit-inducingly dizzy. When the Hollywood Film Festival was cancelled due to flooding, Scarlett accepted a flurry of advertising: Island Records, Michael Laudrup Soccer Coaching and Calvin Klein's October promotion. Scent indeed. Reuters images showed a round hill with thousands of children and Scarlett as Jesus! Unbelievably the public swallowed it. Sales of rosary beads quadrupled overnight.

Scarlett Johansson in the Charities

A total of 20,000 girls applied to be Johansson for the day in a perception experiment. "We must be prepared for a mission in life," she said, opening yet another more-than-school. Families received skin rejuvenation, health and education direct from Scarlett (although music by the incontinent Justin Bieber) and she developed programs to understand Oxfam India and Sri Lanka (who have legibility issues) in 2007. Scarlett developed a new film, "Louis Vuitton", a skewering of the non-entity with deliberately unstable camera work and actors placed on tilting tables, with poor youth and recovery support. Families in India and Sri Lanka applied for roles in "Tsunami Malignancy" (2010) and home life women were arrested shooting this feminist opus which was quietly canned by the studio (legal knottage ongoing). Scarlett was dating gravel-seller Tom Waits by this point; the marriage was, yes, annulled.

Scottish Johansson. (Andy Brain)

An unexpected hit was 2013's controversial "Skin Storm" in which Scarlett played a face-eating racist recruiting Scottish men to work on her pubic forestry before gutting them, with accompanying wailing soundtrack by Morrissey (Grammy nominated). As a result of this slasher she was invited to head Oxfam and banned from Israel.

Her public appearances as head of Oxfam have included the Scarlett Diamonds campaign in Liberia, and a re-coupling with rubber shark and former Fonz, John Travolta, developing an expectation-reinforcing act based around appalling physical slapstick.

Scarlett Johansson in the Music

You may wonder where is the music now. Well the answer is in singlets. Specifically, the new band of Scarlett Johansson with Li'l Kim, Nana V, DLT, ABC, FYC, and Lee 'Kix' Thompson on sex. Playtex brought a lawsuit alleging the name infringed their rights to sell wispy crispy crackers. Legal advisers on the comments section of Yahoo pointed out that at least 20 other places have previously used the word singlets, and also that it was a stupid name. The band name was immediately changed to Keshco.

Scarlett Johansson is a real love story. She wants to know if "he" wants to go back. I would like to know as I want to go back, especially after accepting all the facts in the script of her life. They are necessary for the company, but it is important to show some respect. We do not have many good things and faces, and so for good work, we have to see Scarlett!

Entry text: Adrian Darvell
Editor-in-Chief: Winston Obogu

Corrections, omissions, questions? Please leave any COQs in the comments.