Bruin Fisher

Very clever piece of writing, bravo William!

Lovely little story, Cole, thank you! It reminded me of the time a few years ago, I was driving in my home town and noticed two men on the pavement (sidewalk) holding hands as they walked, pointing out houses to each other. I wondered if they were house-hunting. The gay community was not very visible in those days and I turned my car around and pulled up beside them and wound my window down. They stopped, ducked to look in through the window but hesitantly, not sure of my intention. I just told them how happy it made me to see two men holding hands in this town and they beamed with pleasure, thanked me for the comment. I've never seen them again to my knowledge, maybe they bought a house in some other town.

Magnetism Tony’s not the brightest button in the box, but he is big and shiny (sticking with that metaphor) and very often that’s what casting directors are looking for, so he gets lots of work. Some of us struggle to find work, but we don’t begrudge him his success. Most of us who went through drama school together in London keep in touch, and when work is slow we have been known to put together projects of our own, producing short films and entering competitions. We haven’t won anything, but we’ve had ‘honourable mentions’ a few times. There was this one time, I flew over to New York for an audition (I didn’t get the part) and took the opportunity to catch up with Tony in his posh Brooklyn apartment. He buzzed me in but when I got up to the fourteenth floor and he opened the door to me, he was stark naked, completely unaware that this was not normal behaviour. Don’t get me wrong, Tony stark naked is a sight to behold and I beheld it for all I was worth. I stared at his beautiful body, all muscles and fur, wondering if he’d hold it against me. He didn’t, but he did ask why I was staring so I asked him about the nudity. It turns out he’d heard that his arsehole was magnetic and he was trying to find out if it was true. He’d been all over his flat looking for anything made of metal and sitting on it, then standing up to see if the object would stay stuck to his arse. When I’d buzzed he hadn’t heard the buzzer at first because he’d been out on his balcony, sitting astride the metal handrail. When he told me that, I went grey and shaky and had to sit down. I had to explain to him why, asked him to think what would have happened if the paparazzi had spotted him, Antonio di Figlini, naked and apparently clambering over his balcony balustrade on the fourteenth floor. There would have been pictures in every paper in the English speaking world – not the sort of publicity he needs at this stage in his career. He got me a glass of water and I calmed down and thought to ask him who had told him his arse was magnetic? He went and got the New York Times and pointed out the review of his new movie, and showed me the line that said the audience couldn’t resist his anal magnetism. So I smoothed out the crease in the paper and showed him that it said animal magnetism. I still had to explain to him what the critic meant by that. Bruin Fisher 8/2018

Thanks Colin for a great story. Bullying is a topic that needs discussion and your story will act as a catalyst. Bravo!

A great piece of work and one that struck me particularly forcefully because I caught what might be a deliberate play on words in the last line: Amour, love, which I initially read as Armour, the young person's self-defence against the sadnesses of the life he leads, and behind which he has hidden the pain the line refers to. Bravo, Camy!

Great Auntie? I do have a lot of affection for 'the Beeb' but I think the changes that have happened in the media industries have resulted in the BBC's funds being spread too thin so that now much of what they do is done on a shoestring and it shows. Particularly when their news output is poorly researched or just downright sloppy I am irked. Perhaps it's my advanced years but I'm irked more easily than I once was. I suspect I qualify now as a grumpy old man...

Loved this, thank you! I was expecting a different punchline - I thought the husband was going to say: "You're insatiable, woman! I'm randy as the next man but three nights running, I can't perform like I could in my twenties!"

Swollen...!! Love it

Giggles...

Love it!

BBC Website Obituary - Barbara Bush I was sorry to hear that Mrs Bush, former first lady, had been ill and chose to return home refusing further treatment. I learned this from the BBC News website, normally a reliable, informative, accurate source of news. I was surprised, a few days later, to read the BBC Obituary post which doesn't actually mention that she has died, let alone giving the timing of her decease. Apart from calling the post an obituary (a significant clue, Watson!) there is no indication in the post that the elder stateswoman has died. So I sent an e-mail to the BBC (as is my wont) pointing this out and expecting them to correct the oversight. I got an automated reply (thank you for your communication, we are unable to reply to all such individually but we do try to read them all...) but five days later the original post remains on the site unmodified. Shame on you, BBC! Bruin

This is a delightful animation, heart-warming.

Prince Harry and Megan Markle are engaged, and now Mark Foster gives an interview in which he comes out as gay, and, apparently, happy and contented too. So there is still a glimmer of happiness in the world despite the onslaught of awfulness with which I feel bombarded much of the time....

Mark Foster comes out as gay - as reported in the UK Guardian online newspaper

It's one of my favourite Dusty Springfield songs. I rather imagine she was fully aware of its significance to the writers...

Indeed I have. Or it might have been Youtube clips from it.... Well done for spotting it, Mike!

A brilliant chapter two, James. Well done both. Now, who's going to write chapter three?

Wot a delightful story. The fantasy element works fine for me. I'm in the early stages of a story with a fantasy element myself, which will be a first for me. Thanks Cole!

There's a school here in the UK where this is the uniform: http://www.christine-lee.co.uk/cms/photo/schools/Christ_s_Hospital_school_pupils.jpg A bit more info about it: https://www.christs-hospital.org.uk/about-ch/history-of-the-uniform/

I paid a visit to my local doctor's surgery to have my ears syringed. The nurse asked me to hold a kidney-shaped bowl under my ear while she squirted warm water into my ear and, presumably, flushed out excess wax into the bowl. While she worked she advised me how I could reduce the need for future visits. "Warm a little olive oil," she said, "and oil your ear, and your willy." I was so surprised I turned to face her, interrupting her procedure. "My willy?" I said. "No, cloth-ears. Your ear. And do it about once a year. Annually!" I think I went a little pink. (I just came across a version of this story, on a TV chat show, and thought who better to share it with than my old friends here at AD?)

A lot of good stuff I found on IOMFATS was by AD authors and therefore I could also find it here. But Grasshopper was one of a few exceptions, and I devoured his wonderful sagas there. I corresponded with him for a bit, he was kind enough to help me with a story I was working on. But he's gone completely silent on the web now, as far as I can tell. I know he had a nasty industrial accident which made it difficult for him to type, I thought that was going to be temporary but maybe he's offline because he can no longer do it? I do hope not. He's a young man with his life ahead of him and I wouldn't like to think he's restricted in that way, especially since he has such talent. My greetings and very best wishes to him, anyway.

Nicely written, James, I loved the story as it stands and like others I wonder if it could be the beginning of something longer? I have a feeling I'm missing something, that maybe there are local cultural references in this story that I'm missing. Is Frank Garrett a character from folklore?

Thank you Cynus for a moving testimony which echoes in places my own story. And how wonderful to hear about - and from - the legendary EleCivil! Welcome back to the forums, Ele, from one of your biggest fans. My hearty best wishes to you both.

I'd just like to state here how pleased and honoured I am that my story Boy's Grave is listed as a Dude's Pick short story. It's not a recent story (new stuff from me is like hen's teeth these days) but it's definitely one of my favourites, I'm particularly proud to have managed a writing style different from my normal style. I'd love to know what others think of it. Does it work?

A few contributions of my own (they may be a re-post but I can't find them, so posting them here in the home of Limericks seems appropriate): I've always liked limericks, usually the naughtier the better. So every so often I try my hand at writing one. Here is a selection of the results: It was cramped for the crew of a tank. It was noisy, and dark, and it stank. One guy made a mistake, Thought he'd grabbed the handbrake. And he gave the gun loader a wank. This one I wrote after reading a news report, I think from Australia, of a man who was stopped by police for speeding, while filming himself masturbating, and high on something. While speeding, on weed, this mad guy Films himself parting his fly. The cops flag him down Yelling 'Stop that, you clown!” He can't, and comes hard, fast and high. King Edward II is generally understood to have been homosexual, and in love with Piers Gaveston, who was apparently what my grandmother would call 'a girl no better than she should be'. In other words, a manipulative gold-digger. Their turbulent relationship caused a lot of trouble with Edward's father, and his wife, and the whole kingdom. A report reached the court: “It appears That Edward and Cornwall are queers!” The king made a scene - Claimed he did love his queen; But the queen that he loved was his Piers. Two limericks about surnames. The first was inspired by the name of the BBC reporter, Tom Geoghegan. It's a name with Irish origins, and it's pronounced 'gay-gun'. You'll need to know that to make sense of the limerick. I'm stuck with the surname of Geoghegan, A name that goes back to times Peoghegan. Once, just for a laugh, I pronounced the first haugh On its own and was Geoghe for a Deoghe, Man! At the wedding of friends, boy to boy, We wondered whose name they'd employ. Speculation was trounced When the vicar announced: Roy Fitzalan, and Alan Fitzroy. There was a light-hearted 'Talk like a Pirate' day a while back, and a writer's forum that I follow got into the spirit of the thing in a big way. I contributed the following limericks. Note that Charlie Cochrane and Alex Beecroft are the names of two of the other authors who participated. Messrs Morgan, and Bonny, and Teach Did disport with a cabin boy each. They each thought it best Not to use the Crow's Nest But to roger his boy on the beach. Grim Blackbeard, the last of his breed Committed a dastardly deed His practice heretical (albeit parenthetical) Was to sprinkle his crew with his seed. The feared Cap'n Charlie Cochrane Swore he'd never be tempted again After Dread Pirate Bee- Croft suggested that he And his mate should try sexual pain. The dread Pirate Beecroft alone Is the scourge of the high seas, I own. With his bo's'un at night He cavorts with delight And the whole crew can hear how they groan. The next few deal with the common problem among older men, prostate trouble. For the first of these I have to apologise, nay grovel, to my dear friend DesDownunder, who is the butt of this joke. He has broad shoulders (he's big everywhere that counts, so I'm told!) and will not doubt take this affectionate joshing in good part. And to put the record straight, he's not nearly as old as the limericks imply, I have it on good authority he's well under a hundred years of age. A mere stripling. Our Des, who's a hundred years old (Or, roughly that age, so I'm told), Gets up for a slash Runs a thirty yard dash Thrice nightly, and always wins gold. The guy has to look after me, He must - I'm his prostate, you see. The doc gave a prod (Felt like his mate's rod) And declares that I'm A1 healthy. “Lift your knees up!” the doc said, and pressed His finger inside me, no less. Ignoring my pride He stroked side to side And I spurted all over his chest. A doctor named Coriolanus (wait for it!) Attempted to test me for gayness. He got me disrobed Then he prodded and probed Till I squealed 'Take care - that's my... coccyx! Tchaikovsky was almost certainly homosexual, and lived a tortured life because he could not express himself freely. He formed a close attachment to his young nephew Bob, which was the inspiration for his sixth symphony, known as 'the pathetique'. Sadly he died less than a week after its first performance. Peter Ilych wrote music unique, His last piece he called 'Pathetique'. Inspired by his 'Bob', He completed the job, But the poor man was dead in a week. We got on surprisingly well When we camped on the Cumberland Fell. My friend whispered “Shall us Cavort with your phallus, My anus, this condom, and gel?” Shake hands; I'm your new friend – your penis. You'll soon find what fun I can benis. When you're down and alone When there's no-one else home You and I can let fly with all freenis. This last limerick is not 'all my own work'. The original version is in the public domain, penned by that prolific genius, 'anon'. I have taken his work and bowdlerised it mercilessly, resulting in my gay-themed variant, which I like to think works better. A plumber, young, randy and free Was plumbing his mate by the sea. Said the lad, “Cease your plumbing, “I think someone's coming!” Said the plumber, still plumbing, “It's me!” I hope you've enjoyed these and are not scandalized by them. I also hope I have not sullied my reputation irreparably!