THE DARLING BUDS OF JUNE
Copyright by Frankie Lassut 2015
Published by Wonky Books at Smashwords
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EPUB ISBN: 978-1- 910103-66-1
EBOOK ISBN: 978-1-910103-67-8
This is a little bit of daftness for Shakespeare fans or non-Shakey fans who fancy a smile or two, and maybe especially those who had Shakespeare rammed down their throat at school in the name of education. It is mostly true, but ok, the true bits have been coloured in a little to make it more interesting. It’s written in my own style which I call Friction i.e. fact and fiction. The trouble is, when publishing, there is no button for Friction; so I thought I’d tell you here (which I think is very nice of me).
This goofy story is based in the West Midland’s Hamlet of Alcester. It was born through the genuine animosity between said town and Stratford Upon Avon and nearby as the crow flies; after it has nabbed some of someone’s pint in Stratford ... (still, it was the happiest crow in Warwickshire for a short while). Amusingly, I actually got told off by a lady in the early days of this little work, because she was upset with me calling the place Stratford On Avon; I didn’t realise I was being an ignorant jerk. She kindly corrected me, “It’s ‘Apon’ dear, ‘Apon’!” Very sorry, please accept my most humble apologies. Interestingly, the name Avon, the base for the Apon, comes from the Welsh for river i.e. afon, or something like that. I heard that on Who Wants to be a Millionaire.
The people of Alcester, the ones I knew, were in a state of being pleasantly narked each time Stratford was mentioned because the ‘Apon’ mob were getting lots of tourism grant money while ‘they’ were being overlooked (grrrr!). That’s because there is, erm, nothing much in Alcester and they have no claim to fame. I have though seen a lovely white mallard on the river, a little albino quacker ... not quite a swan, but nevertheless it was, erm, an albino mallard and not an ugly duckling. But Stratford aside, Alcester couldn’t even get on with their direct neighbours in posher Oversley Green because of property price differences. Maybe they still can’t? The Oversley Greenies don’t seem to mind so much. They still enjoy going shopping in Alcester for expensive antiques, because their Rollers can just fit in the main street. They told me all this in the local cafe and so, I thought it would be nice to do something for them tourist-wise, because I’m basically, extremely lovely and quite creative in a mad sort of way. Quite what though? I had no idea, but, when you’re into the arts, the Muse is never far away when the artist has been triggered, or ‘inspired’ as it’s called.
On the way back to Coventry in the car after the first visit, having fun giving our photography to people with outlets who would be kind enough to stock it, Evo drove while I snoozed, and then it began ... the story began to write itself in my mind, with the usual picture show (it’s brilliant in my head sometimes) and we both had a good laugh. The only slight glitch was, Alcester people didn’t laugh because, unfortunately, they can’t laugh at themselves; a big problem for ‘anyone’ (don’t take life so seriously?). Also, the head of the local writing group didn’t like me, or the idea, because he didn’t get the inspiration (what’s the name of that group? JLS! Insert e a o & u?) ... I’m not laughing, honest. Maybe he just didn’t ask ‘his’ muse.
This then is a bit of spoofy fun, so I hope you enjoy it.
PS. We went to Stratford one morning and as it is the cleanest town on the planet, I photographed all the litter on the way to the centre (the people who live there are like city folk and I thought Stratford folk were disciples of Mrs Bucket). I used some of the pics in the book ... a bit cheeky, but warts maybe need to be seen when the town council is in obvious denial. I sent the shots to the Lord Mayor, but received no response ... not even sued (for publicity). I bet they cleaned up though? I may never know.
Here’s a good question: ‘could’ you help me P-T-Off ... read this and tell your friends???
Ok, let me sort of begin again, like Michael Finnegan. I’ll take his place:
‘There was a young man called Frankie Finnegan
Who grew some creative stuff on Alcester’s sheninigan
Will the wind come out and blow it innagen?
Poor old Frankie Finnegan, getting stick-aggen’.
This next bit contains their old (new) claim to fame which my muse kindly gave me (I don’t think Muses drink), so don’t blame me, I’m just the messenger, the humble servant of my Musey Woozey.
ALCESTER.
Who has heard of Alcester? 9.99% of the people I’ve asked haven’t. It’s not good that, for a town wanting ‘visibility’, that people don’t know about and it doubly doesn’t help living next door to someone famous (probably because of you too, which makes it worse; I’ll tell you soon) ...
But hey! Never mind bloody ‘Apon’ Stratford! Because you see, Alcester has its own claim to fame, and now that the gift horse (me) has turned up with a fun opportunity, the brave and enterprising people of Alcester are going to delight the public with this treasure they have realised they have thanks to a fabulous writer from Coventry (me) who did a pile of research. They are now to have their very OWN Bard! (Who was also Shakey’s real life flesh and blood ‘Muse’).
Eventually you see, poverty begins to get annoying, and when you see a neighbouring town being showered with gold and jewels type development funding, largely because of the efforts of one of ‘your’ children ...all they need is their star’s gravestone back to show to the tourists. Stratford Council members nicked it you see. There again, you ‘can’ understand Stratford Apon Avon’s unwillingness to have this known. Alcester?! It must be like having dirt on the bottom of your shoe to Stratford people with power.
Alcester is the ‘real’ jewel of Warwickshire and was the home of ... of ...
‘Gillian Benedict’, 1554-1614, who married Stan Stashaway 1544-1620. Gillian Stashaway née Benedict was a cleaning maid, but she had a brilliant talent, she was a poet and a storyteller, but what’s more, she was an entertainer. She didn’t see herself as a coaxer of smiles though, she was a serious writer and I would guess that she didn’t much care for it if anyone found her works slightly less than purist, connoisseur serious. In other words, she thought she was good, and, she was so bad, she was; but she wasn’t good, she was brilliant. This exhaustively researched story should therefore deee-light the Shakespeare scholars, the hardest, most steadfast purist and Melvyn Bragg (I worked with his cousin once, so I know that’s true). A lot of the information was given to me by a mole that I shall not name and to whom I shall be grateful for life. My mole is a member of a group of Alcestrians who have a monthly meeting to discuss tourism … read on:
A message from some of the friendly, tourism hungry people of Alcester, or as they are known the Friends of Alcester Tourist Board, or the FAT B’s, a name which is sometimes used in fun making, but none of them are fat anyway, but most of them are getting on a bit, so they’re bored; they have drunk all of the Summer wine. But they did save all the bottles for the next fermentation.
“Hello reader, I’m the Mole, let me tell you about our as yet almost unknown to the world, fame. Gillian Stashaway née Benedict, Shakespeare’s contemporary, was/is ‘our’ under rated Bard, or certainly the inspiration (Muse) and provider of the raw material for William; and we the FAT B’s, fine Alcestrians, think that it is time that she was r
ecognised, and then WE too can have a theatre! ‘The Royal Stashaway Albino Mallard Theatre’ perhaps? Unfortunately for us, most of Gillian’s great works were somehow acquired by and revamped by Shakespeare who added some boredom it must be said, and as a result, Gillian was condemned to live a life of frustration and hovered near poverty in his literary shadow. Personally, I (ME!) think that she had a thing going with Will (her lover?) and encouraged him when she knew he could redo her works for the taste of a snobby public, who didn’t take to her brilliant, lighter, more amusing style. Actually, she provided much inspiration for William i.e. she woke him up from his depression as he wasn’t producing anything good as his muse was on leave; couldn’t get through to him because William drank heavily. What is it with these poets and writers? They drink because they’re miserable as their muse can’t get information into their poor beleaguered mind, because they drink. They then call it writers block, which is misery producing so they have a drink. What a vicious circle. In other words though, she ‘woke’ him. We can then say with some degree of accuracy, Gillian Wakes Shakespeare, or ... Wakesspeare. We can drop one of the S’s .. Wakes-peare? So, she will therefore be called Gillian Stashaway née Benedict ‘nay’ Wakespeare. There will be times when I, the author, will get fed up of writing all that envelope busting name out and simply call her Gillian W, Gillian nay W, or Gillian Stashaway née Benedict ... oh whatever, you’ll know who I mean. Similarly with ‘I’ when the mole is speaking, as it may also be me, or me by myself, so please treat the mole and I as the same person. Yes, well anyway, God gave Gillian a great talent, but, it was for a slightly different audience than the one William catered for, so all he did was give her work a bit of a tweak. Good Lord, Stratford owes Alcester everything!” You got all that? I need a drink. Museless times when writing.
I (author) have had similar experiences, both sides of the coin. I have been unable to write anything, but have been only too happy to rewrite someone else’s work, or vice versa. It’s happening right now. I started a house newspaper, which makes fun of other guests. One of them decided to take over and made up a new name for the paper, and tried to write articles, but couldn’t. So, being un-jealous and un-angry about this hostile takeover, I wrote an example, he took it and said “No, noooo ...’you want it like this’. He re-wrote it, gave it to everyone, and took credit. Ho, ho, dead amusing.
Gillian Wakespeare 1554-1614 ... that’s better, not so much of a change now when Stratford is shoved into second place soon, the public will soon get used to it. It’s great being a creative genius. Ok, it’s a few years since I wrote this the first time and I used Wakespeare back then and I know now (5 minutes back on a web search it’s 3 January 2015 now) that it has been used before, but I had never heard it, except when it popped into my head in the car. So, my version is the best and that’s that.
Ever seen that ‘Dead Famous’ programme? The guy was finding relics i.e. bits of famous people who were dead (to state the obvious). He was then DNA testing the bits to find out why they actually died, or things about them. He actually found Napoleon’s willy, which didn’t need a big box at all (there are no pictures of Josephine smiling, never mind laughing). Maybe then Stan was like Napoleon in that department, but Willy Shakespeare lived up to his name? I bet his nickname was big willy. I wonder if Anne knew of the affair? Hmmmm? That would have led to a great bitch fight on the streets of either Stratford or Alcester. Maybe then Gillian wasn’t so ‘frustrated’? And maybe William slipped her a few, erm ... groats?
Her loving husband, Stan Stashaway, was an expert at fooling the Inland Revenue with the small groatage they had from Gillian’s local, on the spot love poems (population boosters). It’s a pity he didn’t write an advice booklet (or did he?) Here then, for your pleasure, is a short, excellent piece of work by Gillian, from our secret archives which we ‘may’ now dust off. What a ‘great’ idea! We could get this fabulous Coventry writer to do some more and actually have a Wakespeare ‘selection’ in our church. That would amuse the tourists!
An early sonnet, by Gillian Stashaway née Benedict nay Wakespeare!
Ahhhh! Bugger it. By OUR Gillian!
The Darling Buds of June.
I love the darling buds of June
Thou art so lovely and so tempered
Then, rough September winds cometh to blow dead leaves around
And we gatherest them ready for big Pagan fires unhampered
Sometimes too hot heaven’s pupil dost glow
And we all walkest round in hot weather skimpy gear
And you Stan, my loveliest one, dost enjoy
Seeing the sexxye wiggle on my short hemp sacking clad rear.
© Stan Stashaway.
(You can see where Shakespeare changed it and ‘ruined it’ for commercial purposes, if you study it un-closely).
***
The first (Month 1) communication from the mole, regarding the Friends of ‘Alcester Tourist Board’ (better known as the FAT Bs ... shame on you if you think the B should stand for Bast ... you know). Mole is a significant member. I may swap places with her talking wise as we are like brother and sister, not that it matters as it will still be her information. You know what? You’ll get it, I’ll make it as easy as I can for you to follow. Have I already explained that? Hmmm? Never mind, repetition is cool.
“Hello, I’m Frankie’s mole and I consider it a great honour. I’m a member of a local group, the Friends of Alcester Tourist Board, or the FAT Bs as we are fondly known locally. We really like our Tourist Board, but we don’t like Stratford Tourist Board for several reasons, which include … they nick a lot of tourist business from under our noses! Especially the lucrative ‘Merry Cans’. What do we get? Local overspill from the by-pass, including some of questionable (?) class from ‘Ghost Town’ (what a cow! I’m joking).
In order to increase tourism in our town, we are considering using some cash from an undisclosed source in the town council, to make a bumper sticker which will say, “Alcester, home of Gillian Stashaway nay Wakespeare!” By the way, ‘nay’ is sort of my version (ME) of née
“If sales are huge, we may really go for it and make a second one, which will say, “Alcester, the fab town in Wakespeare country” Or even, “Visit Stratford if you want to be bored, but you will not be board in Alcester because of the imaginative Alcester Tourist Bored ” (clever, eye-catching, play on words there, which you thought was an error, didn’t you!). “Mind you, Derek (69), a local artist, did mention at our meeting last week, that he didn’t think car bumpers would be nearly long enough to accommodate the last statement; especially minis. His comment was seconded by Joan (59), and a vote among members trashed the plan.
The first two statement subjects are still in the pipeline. Gary (47), who had the sticker idea, was given a free strip of raffle tickets, and won a plastic vase full of flowers made from multi-coloured, Aloe Vera, buttermilk and lanolin infused toilet tissue paper and wire; they were made by Cedric (92). Cedric has very soft hands, as he makes a lot of these flowers and helps a local sheep farmer at shearing and dipping times. Cedric grabbed a sheep in order to dip it a few years back. He got his ring caught in the wool and was dragged through the dip. He said it tasted horrible but the hallucinations he had on life support were interesting. Cedric has the softest arse in Alcester, or so it says on the wall of the public loo, in the local Vicar’s handwriting (scandal in Alcester).
The FAT Bs also decided unanimously that the authorities in Stratford didn’t (don’t) even have any imagination! (At all). So they wouldn’t be able to make bumper stickers like the FAT B’s. That news raised a cheer!
For instance, Stratford has a river flowing through it, the River Avon, which didn’t require much imagination. The river Avon though is famous of course, and should you decide to fritter your hard earned cash on a yearned for visit … ‘because Shakespeare lived there’, you will notice that for every duck, goose or swan which floats on the surface, there is an empty pop bottle, a can, and a crisp bag e
tc., floating nearby (how nice). However, concerning the authorities’ lack of imagination: the word ‘Avon’ derives from the Welsh, Afon, which means river (clever bunch us FAT Bs). So what’s the point of having a river, called ‘river’?! But, you already knew that, so sorry and all that.”
***
‘VISIT ALCESTER, ‘THE’ TOWN IN WAKESPEARE COUNTRY’
***
Idyllic local fungi (it was either that or a tin can; but, we can’t copy Stratford can we).
Subliminal advert:’
Don’t visit Stratford, come to Alcester. It’s lovelier and better tempered.
End of this month’s report.
Month 2
“Hello, Mole here (and ME). Welcome to this month’s report. Here are the minutes, from the FAT Bs meeting: After our last successful meeting (argument) about car bumper stickers, we have decided to maybe, also ‘probably’ you never know (?), make a badge for tourists, which will say, “I don’t live here, I’m a tourist”, as opposed to the old, “I’m not a tourist, I live here!”
This will make them easily recognisable, so that the owners of local businesses can show them friendliness and helpfulness, and not take them for granted like they do the locals (Coventry? Don’t go there). Hopefully then they will spend loads of £cash£ in Alcester, and nowhere near the same amount if they visit that snobby litterbin, Stratford. Alcester loves a healthy economy.
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