I gotta go.

I gotta go.
I gotta go.
I gotta go, like the snow, hanging low on,
the branches of trees in Wintertime.
But now it's summertime.
And it is not sublime, the snow of Summertime.

I gotta leave
I gotta leave
I gotta leave, but do not grieve, for I will be back again.
When I come down this Track Again.

[Drum Solo]

I must be gone.
I must be gone.
I must be gone, because the Spring has been and gone.
And I'm not where I Belong.

I gotta dash.
I gotta dash.
I gotta dash, This girs a lash, but offers hash, from her stash.
And I can't be having That.
I'll get my hat, go feed my cat.

And now the Ramones, who's words echo through my bones...
Listen to the Ramones.

I gotta get away.
Gotta x6 Get Away.

Note: The term [Drum Solo] refers to some sort of musical interlude or rambling or whatever... Not an actual drum solo because i hate them.

Also: The capitalised words are to be sung at a higher pitch... like in a Yes song.

Wave

Here's a song which feels a bit Jimmy Eat World to me... See what you think.

Wave because you see her.
Wave because you know her.
Wave because you need her.
Wave because you want her.
Wave because you love her.

I have changed the second verse back to its original content because It feels better...

Wave because your in the water.
Wave to your son and daughter.
Wave because of the light in your eyes.
Wave because you hear their cries.
Wave because your not that tough.
Wave because you can never get enough.



A bit random... But I like it.

-ANkh

I Lobster

I Lobster.
You Lobster?
He Lobster!
She Lobster!
Us Lobster!
They Lobster!
Why Lobster?
How Lobster?
Who Lobster?
WHAT LOBSTER?

-Um... Lobster everybody!

Battling The Beast.

I'll chop off both your necks you freak!
Actually we have only one neck
But we've got a long spicky tail, and a beak
Oh Good! I'll send you back to heck.

That beak is sharp
like a carp
That's irrelevant
Like an elephant.

Yes I aknowledge that this is very bad.
-Rory Glynn

Communications Lecturer

Here is a single verse poem I wrote about my Communications Lecturer.
As you will soon discover I find his class utterly trivial and pointless.

Randomly he Rambles
Many Examples executed
His point is all in-shambles
His effort un-saluted

I quite like it.

Death in the family.

This one is a proper poem...
For people who can't take a hint I would like to point out that time passes between verses.

A member of our family died today
We cried and wailed in such dismay!
He was one of us for many years.
That's why his passing caused such tears.

The funeral was held last Monday
By all accounts a dreary day.
At the wake we raised our beers
To toast a life with many fears.

But today will be bright and gay,
And we will all go out and play!
You see I don to want to seem perfidious
But now we have a new goldfish.

Note: For added sarcasm replace "goldfish" with "Adopted Romanian".
But I wouldn't do that because it would just be cold... And not at all funny.
Your a very bad person. And frankly... So am I.

By Rory Glynn.

Like a Grenade

This one is more of a song than a poem.

I Exploded like a grenade
It was getting worse
And makin' me curse
So I went up!

Chorus:
I Blasted them back,
In a Massive Attack!
And now they run back
For courage they Lack!

I exploded like a grenade
They were getting on my wick!
So I hollered "Suck my dick!"
I just blew up!

Chorus
I Blasted them back,
In a Massive Attack!
And now they run back
For courage they Lack!

By Rory Glynn
-Hey if you listened to the weird variety of music I do you'd write this shit too...

Shot In the Back

We were walking in the park,
A city dwellers perk
Then (due to sudden spark)
I was "Such a Jerk!"

I was shot in the back!
I was hurt, by
An unprovoked attack!
I felt like dirt, because
I was shot in the back!

by Rory Glynn

Going MutiMedia

The Amazing Jellybaby Circuit.

The Verses of a Plane

What follows are a series of verses I wrote while flying home. I will mark the point at which i handed the laptop over to the girl seated behind me and at her request wrote more poems. I will also leave my message to her and some of her response (i.e. not her email address).

I’m a plane in flight,

Which is my personal plight

But I intend this song to be light

And only somewhat trite

For you to be uplifted

My rhymes must be gifted

And all ready we have hit the wall

Which will be my fall

For no words end with ifted but gifted and lifted

But fear not, my desperation is not so great

As to attempt a rhyme with “snifted”

For that is not a word and I would hesitate, to use it.

My plane is over the Atlantic Ocean

To be precise it flies above the Davis Straits

And I feel I am in dire straits above the Davis Straits

Being awake brings forth this emotion.

The twins, the puppies, the little pair.

The jugs, the guppies, the special two.

Tits are the thing,

with which one catches

the concentration Imagination and Salivation,

of the king.

If you can’t think of anything clever to say rip off Shakespeare…

The girl behind me struggles with her sleep

Eyes closed, she finds, she cannot keep

I would suggest to her sunglasses

But disturbing her, would be the work of asses.

The girl to my fore shakes and shivers,

She quakes and she quivers,

She drops her seatbelt on my shoe

What a thing to do!

To my right, is a young lady

Who’s mastery of flight

Is absolutely flawless

First she had a nap

Now TV is watched

The gentleman to my left

Is a reader no less

He now examines the in-flight magazine

With the cool eye of the excruciatingly bored.

And I sit in the middle

My thumbs I do twiddle

And time I must piddle, away

Four hours to fritter, have I.

I could watch a movie!

Wouldn’t that be groovy?

But all of the films are in full run

And watching a flick but missing the start,

Why that is simply not fun!

And I must bemoan!

And loudly I groan!

For a comedy channel… we have not.

Perhaps I should be happy with what I have got!..

Perhaps not

Testacles, my dear boy are the pinnacle

For if a tight spot is the home for a testacle

Comfort is utterly impossible

The pinch utterly impassable

On the plane they server food, unpalatable

They make announcements, inaudible

They have movie screens, invisible

And a horrid smell, indefinable.

But it’s hardly my place to complain…

I believe I need a strategy game

A strategy game

To keep me sane

A strategy game

While on the plane

Being without, such a diversion

I make the conversion

And use my energy to write lyrics

And quietly I am murdered by semantics

Murder on Phonics!

More on this one when I find out what Phonics are exactly.

I fought the law!

Till the law run!

And now it’s coming back!

With a bigger gun!

The Hun…

If I had a scrap of paper

I’d write down your name

And call you when I got home

If I had a scrap of paper

I’d write out a sonnet

All about your bonnet

If I had a scrap of paper

I’d make a list

Of all the really good lists.

If I had a scrap of paper

I’d draw you a picture

Of what I see.

If I had a scrap of paper

I’d fold it into a shape

Or wear it as a cape.

If I had a scrap of paper

I’d throw it away

And spend with you another day.

If I had a scrap of paper

I’d tear it half

And give the big half to you

If I were you I’d be more like me

So I wouldn’t really be you at all

I’d be me, altogether differently

And you would seem appal.

Well that is what I could flower

In merely half an hour

Imagine the throughput

If I was not so stupid

Now who will read my blasted poems?

Crazy lyrics

Stupid Songs

A posting on the internet will see them read

But shallow as I am I feel the need for a more immediate audience.

If my nearest neighbour was not a child of eight I would ask her, what she thought…

But sadly she is and I must not.

These poems are somewhat explicit, entirely unsolicited.

They are also very hard to follow, being the result of a mental billow

Perhaps my neighbour the explicit reader will see clear to evaluating my written work? Perhaps I should ask?

He is watching TV, I see. I believe I shall wait, for my need is not nearly so great.

As to cause inconvenience, to an unwitting audience.

I had quietly hoped someone would be reading over my shoulder, but others are not nearly as nosy as I!

This is the point at which the laptop was passed over to The Audience, an American girl with an active interest in poetry... and was recieved back with an instruction to write more...

A new audience (and indeed subject matter)

Has seen fit to make its presence felt

And a blow she has dealt, me

By requesting more of my non-science

I had the poor fortune,

To hand words to a lover of poetry

And now, tongue in cheek

I must satisfy the geek.

And now turn your gaze

To the wonderful maze

That is made up with many a seat

And of course, an unhelpful smattering of feet…

This hazard is trawled

By stewards unshawled

The great unwashed*

And bankers half sloshed

*A phrase my geography teacher often used to describe his class.

As someone with legs of an inconvenient length

It is my unfortunate strength

To trip the unwary

A prospect they find scary

So I’m given looks! Glary!... and so on.

The greatest avenue of adventure and excitement open to a passenger on a plane is a trip to an even more confined space, where they can find terror and relief in equal measure.

I refer of course to a trip to the lavatory.

Stumble and stammer,

On a door you hammer

And suddenly you’re in the dim

Hit the switch and lock the door

Now at least you can see the floor

Relief is granted by an unconformable piece of plastic.

But then the terror renders you a spastic,

The awful sound of air moving at speed!

One more shock as the switch now plunges you into a darkness most grim…

But at least you have pee’d.

If you wish to read more of my random thoughts leave an email address on here and I’ll send the url of my rarely updated oft ignored blog.

[The response of the girl:] An intentional blow. I wondered if your work would change at all after some solicitation.

By Rory Glynn

Your such an asshole.

Your such an asshole
down in your grass-hole
and you suck it all in
And create such a din

I chloroformed my date!

Every thing was going great!
I had just finished my plate!
It was getting quite late...
Then I Chloroformed my date!

Will her father relate?
No! He will demonstrate his hate!
So now I concentrate...
On getting my story straight!

-Ankhwatcher

Make a rhyme for the word Voodoo

That? Why thats just...

VOODOO

Buts its the bad kind of voodoo,
That which you do,
And aparthied that was bad too!
Someone had to

Take a powerful Stand!
Hand in hand
And it was they who did demand
Make IT BANNED!

(yes, you are correct. There is no point to this.)

This is the end.

Sorry but I'm going to stop.
I'm sure you have noticed that my updates have gone from frequent to infrequent to downright rare.
Well today they are stopping altogether.
This webcomic is over. If I think up a funny comic (or story or song) I may still post it here but from here on I don't promise anything.

Basically I haven't the skill or the imagination to keep this up, I've been spending more and more time and energy on the DMZ clan and other BF2 related activities.

I feel we should end on a song, so here i will present one:
A Song About Grit.

This is a song about grit.
You know the shit.
Don't lack a tutor,
Come an' talk about grit!

Chorus:
Was that the song about grit?
Why was it this?
That was indeed it!
It is what it was and is!

You could call it gravel
It will not unravel!
It may float in water
And far it will travel!

Chorus:
Was that the song about grit?
Why was it this?
That was indeed it!
It is what it was and is!

It could be in a stream,
That flows through your dream.
And that stream could become vapour!
Which we call steam!

Chorus:
Was that the song about grit?
Why was it this?
That was indeed it!
It is what it was and is!

But the grit will not!
It'll just get hot!
Was this song a metaphor?
Well... No! It was not!

Chorus:
Was that the song about grit?
Why was it this?
That was indeed it!
It is what it was and is!

Bye.
-Love Rory.

The Cessna Song

A cessna is something one may see up above!
But it is by no means as graceful as a dove.
It is in a Cessna that many learn to fly,
But a Cessna is a thing which rarely stays in the sky!

They crash! They smash! They bash!
They Crumple and they Cripple!
And many a pilot has made a hash
And caused quite a ripple!
-Ankhwatcher

Do feel free to add to The Cessna Song.

Happy St. Patricks Week!

The Monday Morning Macarana

Every Monday in College the students consume vast quantities of Coffee viewing this through my eyelids (the coffee serves a purpose) I took some quick notes about the dance steps that the cycle of coffee dependence takes... I have constructed a simple diagram which explains this... WARNING: The wiggling of hips may cause injury.

Filler #1

I couldn't think of a good idea for a webcomic this week so here is some filler.
I realise it was somewhat pessimistic to call this Filler #1!

Recycling your newspaper:- The Samurai Theory

Only through battle can the true master of the free newspaper be found.

The return of the newspaper.

What the hell is he talking about?
And Unreal Tournament is now available for anyone with broadband. Or a hell of a lot of time on their hands!
More news when I have sorted out my UT server.

Battlefield 2 Guide Part 3: The C4 Charge.

Do you want to die in an overly dramatic way? Do you want to make your opponents terrified of their own armour?
Then you need The C4 Charge!
Cooking instructions:
Take one small and excedingly lively vehicle:

Get an unhealthily large number of explosive packages.

Add Liberally.

Find the nearest enemy tank.

Apply at great speed with absolutely no caution.Enjoy your C4 kills with a cold glass of Bacardi.

Sorry about the image quality this week but I posted from a college computer which had no Photoshop or GIMP :*(

It wouldn't let me install GIMP either... heap o' crap.

Watch out for the icy patch.

Yay I made a GTA reference without saying a word!

Sorry this is late guy and girl.

The Ultimate Fighting Hero Guy.

Inspired by the incredible Exterminus Now (see my favourite webcomics list for linkage)
I have considered what would be needed to create the ultimate fighting hero guy.
Remember you can always click on these things for a closer view (I realise the writing is tiny).






And hey! Go Frap yourself!

Accessibility

Its probably worth pointing out that there is no such plug-in for Zone Alarm, and I don't think you can get plug-ins for Zone Alarm anyway...

I'd like to warn my many thousands of readers (yes Arwen & Deaddrop, this means you) that I wont be posting a web-comic next week.
Stupid exams.

I'd also like to say hello to anyone who followed my links from the DMZ website.
And to anyone who did so, I will answer you first question: No, there isn't any porn here.

Living Off The Fat'a The Lan'.

I've now played through enough of Mario Kart DS to confirm two things:
1. Its the best Mario Kart, ever.
2. It does not feature Koopa Troopa.

Poor little bugger...