Storyboard
- Thread starter Shaun
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OP
OP
Arch said:
What he didn't know was that another artist showing at the exhibition was insanely jelous of his talent.
Jean Luc Pomme de Terre had worked all his life in almost abject poverty to finally get the recognition he felt he so richly deserved, only to be left in the shadow of this English upstart.
He silently seethed and bubbled, and spent all of his free time plotting the ruin of this simpleton who didn't understand the nature or sacrifice of true art and artists.
He finally decided to call his friend Tar Tan Ratan.
"Bonjour mon ami" ...
Keith Oates
Janner
- Location
- Penarth, Wales
"See you pal" said TarTan, "why are you looking so unhappy today" . Jean Luc then told him the story about the upstart artist from Devon getting all of the recognition and money for works that were so inferior to his own master pieces. He then said "what can I do to get my own back on him and make him be unacceptable to the public"? TarTan thought for a while and then said "I've got it, spread a rumour in the media that he is a cyclist, no one will buy his paintings when they hear that". Jean Luc then pondered the situation and replied.......................
"That might work..."
He wasn't sure however, as he emerged from the phone box and went in search of his own bicycle, that such a ruse would work. Neither was he sure that he was entirely safe at that moment. The phone box had provided a temporary relief from this paranoia. There was the reassurance of the box itself, red, familiar, the standard aroma of urine helped him know he was still alive.
Then there was the protection of the cards advertising the services of 'unfortunates', as he liked to think of them. He had often wondered whether the services would live up to the description. There was reasonable doubt, since he recognized a number of the girls from his internet sessions. These girls most certainly lived in Los Angeles, he had seen one perform ably from the top of a building which afforded an excellent view of the Hollywood Hills. The vary same lady was now suspended by a single gob of blu-tak and had obscured his view of what he was sure was a 14 bus. But it could have been a 74, he remained unconvinced.
Resuming his life, Jean Luc went to unlock his cycle....
He wasn't sure however, as he emerged from the phone box and went in search of his own bicycle, that such a ruse would work. Neither was he sure that he was entirely safe at that moment. The phone box had provided a temporary relief from this paranoia. There was the reassurance of the box itself, red, familiar, the standard aroma of urine helped him know he was still alive.
Then there was the protection of the cards advertising the services of 'unfortunates', as he liked to think of them. He had often wondered whether the services would live up to the description. There was reasonable doubt, since he recognized a number of the girls from his internet sessions. These girls most certainly lived in Los Angeles, he had seen one perform ably from the top of a building which afforded an excellent view of the Hollywood Hills. The vary same lady was now suspended by a single gob of blu-tak and had obscured his view of what he was sure was a 14 bus. But it could have been a 74, he remained unconvinced.
Resuming his life, Jean Luc went to unlock his cycle....
as he did so, as he bent to adjust the combination of numbers, at once so significant, but, equally, when considered in the abstract, so devoid of significance, he faltered, for a moment, a moment within which the simultaneous significance and insignificance of the four digits cradled in his hand, each locating a portion of time, the first an ally of the second, the first and the second a division of the third and fourth, seemed, in its ineluctability, its uniqueness, and, at the very same time, its identity with every other moment of the same length, to be, not in a poetic or metonymic fashion, but, rather, in the manner of a part played by each passage of warp over weft in a dress made by the House of Primark, neccessary, vital, but, equally, only ever capable of survival in the company of each and every other moment, preceding and succeeding this very one, united fore, and aft, linked and seperated by the merest fraction of movement, a movement that was embedded in this and other moments, each conversing one with another, beyond the reach of a constructed interpretation, sometimes, apparently, but, not, in truth, winding back one upon another, in the manner of a tape re-played but never recalling in exact and particular ways the original moment re-corded on that tape, so that, when he forced each moment aside to recollect its tragic demise, he found, to his dismay that he couldn't remember the date of his f*cking birthday anyway.
Fnaar
Smutmaster General
- Location
- Thumberland
Then they woke up, and realised it was all a dream! 
Keith Oates
Janner
- Location
- Penarth, Wales
but then reality returned and he knew it was for real and not a dream.
As luck would have it, the bike was locked to the steel fencing by the front wheel only and so by removing the quick release he manage to free it from the fence. He now had to cycle using only the back wheel but this came as second nature to him from his days as a Unicyclist with the travelling circus. He then spotted a hardware shop and went inside to buy a heavy duty bolt cutter and armed with this massive tool returned to the fence to retrieve the front wheel. To his suprise he found that someone had removed the spokes and axle from the wheel and only the rim and tyre remained. This was the last straw, he sat on the edge of the curb, put his head in his hands and started to sob uncontrollably. After about five minutes he felt something touch his shoulder and on looking up he saw................................
As luck would have it, the bike was locked to the steel fencing by the front wheel only and so by removing the quick release he manage to free it from the fence. He now had to cycle using only the back wheel but this came as second nature to him from his days as a Unicyclist with the travelling circus. He then spotted a hardware shop and went inside to buy a heavy duty bolt cutter and armed with this massive tool returned to the fence to retrieve the front wheel. To his suprise he found that someone had removed the spokes and axle from the wheel and only the rim and tyre remained. This was the last straw, he sat on the edge of the curb, put his head in his hands and started to sob uncontrollably. After about five minutes he felt something touch his shoulder and on looking up he saw................................
purplepolly
New Member
- Location
- my house
bonj