Equality Pondherrings.

Prose written by Rob Kosy on Saturday 5, February 2011

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Another look at a current news-worthy item, inspired by a moribund fish.

Overall Rating: 94.9%

This writing has been rated by 4 members, resulting in a rating of 94.9% overall. Below is a breakdown of these results:

Spelling & Grammar:94%
I don't know about you, but from time to time, I sincerely believe the world is going mad. Or at least that's what the herrings in my pond would have me think. As some of you may know after suffering my previous 'pondherrings', the pond to which I refer is not populated by pretty ducks, or prancing frogs and such. Its surroundings are not idyllic, its waters not sparkling and clear. That, dear friend, is because it exists in my own head, and is sadly the closest approximation to what society might term a brain that I can offer. As you regular 'sufferers' know, most of my pondering is done whilst secured inside a small, locked room; an area I have come to regard as my thinking place. In the centre of its gleaming, tiled sterility is a small, porcelain pool with a white box on its back, from which gurgling, watery sounds emanate constantly. Attached to the 'gurgle box' is a kinked chain with a ball at its end, bestowing upon it the appearance of a question mark. An ideal room in which to ponder, don't you think? Comparable in size to the polluted pond that serves as my brain, it is my solemn oath to dump as much waste into that pool as exists within its counterpart in my head. It is a vow I have yet to satisfy. Anyway, it was one day last week, whilst bullying a particularly obese pollutant into the world, that a brand new 'thought herring' was born into my pond; the birth, as always, sired by the thought-provoking journalism of 'The Daily Sport'; a copy of which sat reverently atop my naked thighs. "Great Scott!" I exclaimed through a mouthful of tea and shortbread. Just below the headline 'Lesbian Cheeseburger Kills Harold Shipman's dog' was an article informing the world (and me) that a pair of TV football pundits had been sacked because of 'sexist' comments. Immediately, I brayed the floor with my '50's stick', demanding my dictionary from the little woman downstairs. (Any word that begins with sex is worth looking up, I reckon.) The pond rippled, the herring gasped, and I read on.

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    Awesome; digressive; intellectual; mental; rambling - I loved this!!

    Mr Kosy, take a bow - You seem to be the last bastion of male chauvinism.

    I applaud thee! (or. maybe,- I just missed the point completely?)

    whatever; this was a joy - from first word, to the last.
    Thank you, Verm. You are always an inspiration.

    Chauvinism, for me, is merely a conduit for Mr Funny to express himself (at least I HOPE he's funny. sometimes, when you've stared at this screen for so long you just don't know anymore).

    I'm probably one of the least sexist blokes you could meet. I just find the battle for equality (if it even exists anymore) too much of an hilarity platform.

    It's the Alf Garnet in me.
    Exceptional! I loved every line, sexpecially the very wonderful literary analysix of 'wanker.'

    Well done!
    kt, 'sexpecially', 'analysix'?

    Damn, I wish I'd thought of those. You are a dark horse.
    Mental? Probably.

    Genius? Definitely!

    Great work Rob. Extremely funny stuff.
    How did I miss this!? This beautifully-written masterpiece of studied silliness begins as a serious and considered ponder, and I was with you right up to the word 'caterpillar'. Then, I venture to submit, the 'E' fully kicked in, the herrings began morris-dancing and all hell is let loose. Scarily clever and funny. I must start reading The Daily Sport.Grin
    Savage, my friend, sometimes your comments are funnier than the work you review. Thank you very much Sinsei (I've spelled that wrong haven't I?) An appraisal like that from savage_pratchet makes my day.

    Oh, by the way Mr G, I think you got the first two lines of your comment mixed up. It should start, 'Mental? Definitely!' I didn't even know I'd written this until I woke up and the elves had left me a new pair of shoes atop my keyboard. Apparently they're branching out into amateur writing.