How many libraries & museums does it have, I wonder?
11.03.2026 21:12
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How many libraries & museums does it have, I wonder?
It was a little messy, but this tactic has worked & Starmer is making the political weather, for once
I think it should be a badger on one side & a baboon on the other, out of deference to the old @popbitch.bsky.social conundrum
this is full of holes
![LET'S NOT PLAY FRISBEE WITH THAT POET ANYMORE.
[This is a comic strip, with a poem laid over it. On each panel a new line of the poem is written. The scene is a park, in the summer. A man in a trenchcoat - implicitly Philip Larkin - stands folorn, motionless, looking at people throwing a frisbee. It becomes apparent as the comic progresses that they are trying to play frisbee with him. He stand stock still for the whole comic, watching the frisbee as, panel by panel it soars closer and closer to him].
After contemplating the approaching frisbee for two silent panels, Philip begins his thoughts:
Unloosed, unheralded,
You soar toward me
Across the dying afternoon.
bright disc of childhood,
Long since thrown wide
Of Youth's green imaginings,
Your slow declining arc
Figures a sky-written truth:
We will all succumb, and soon
To earth's hard oblivion.
[The frisbee hits Philip on the head with a resounding DONK. He falls backwards, to the ground.
[Ends]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:4m3we4apbjayclzcnhwe3pfp/bafkreibpyscry7bddmufqnk7wsfuxsflv4fkn4brwvkzxqurjkz7z67yoi)
LET'S NOT PLAY FRISBEE WITH THAT POET ANYMORE. [This is a comic strip, with a poem laid over it. On each panel a new line of the poem is written. The scene is a park, in the summer. A man in a trenchcoat - implicitly Philip Larkin - stands folorn, motionless, looking at people throwing a frisbee. It becomes apparent as the comic progresses that they are trying to play frisbee with him. He stand stock still for the whole comic, watching the frisbee as, panel by panel it soars closer and closer to him]. After contemplating the approaching frisbee for two silent panels, Philip begins his thoughts: Unloosed, unheralded, You soar toward me Across the dying afternoon. bright disc of childhood, Long since thrown wide Of Youth's green imaginings, Your slow declining arc Figures a sky-written truth: We will all succumb, and soon To earth's hard oblivion. [The frisbee hits Philip on the head with a resounding DONK. He falls backwards, to the ground. [Ends]
Let's Not Play Frisbee With That Poet Anymore
It's the little details sometimes. Can't get the fate of those Iranian female footballers off my mind
I hate it when that happens
good.
He was brain damaged by falling off the balcony?
It's ok. It was bugging me
Curate our traumas.
Bluesky's purpose summed up.
A plaque on all your houses...
Post since taken down
Textverschwendungsfrust
Trifling matter
I can't compete with this.
"dial in tension" sounds like a description of my job
Chekhov 9mm
Well... that's slat
Actually, after all these years, I have concluded that Tony Blair can go & fuck himself
Hesgeth not looking very comfortable here
Fact. The screwdriver that tightens the arms of spectacles is only available inside Christmas crackers. Opticians have to pull dozens of crackers to get the tools of their trade, and if you look out the back at Specsavers, you’ll find bins full of wire puzzles, hair bobbles and fortune telling fish.
Doesn't help that the Liberty Bell now mainly remembered as the Monty Python theme tune
There is a man with 3 huge bollocks hiding up the coconut tree
Malaprop of the day: "He didn't pass mustard"
i love the third one
Trail of the Lonesome Pine is such a poetic term
We're now all experts now in asymmetric warfare, aren't we?
I'm pining for the forest