Jack Monroe #344 344%

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Sideboard Bob said:
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What the duck is going on?
 
Sideboard Bob said:
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Poetry now, is it?

From the same W.H. Auden poem, word for word:

'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.

'O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.

'O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.'
 
Holasenoritax said:
Poetry Jack is probably my least favourite Jack

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Third attempt, but I still can't watch Poetry Jack for more than 10 seconds. The 'dangerous' in the title clearly refers to the ability to induce a life-threatening level of cringe. I've just cringed myself into my True Clam Form. I'll probably remain a shrivelled mollusc for the rest of the night. :cry: Thanks, Poetry Jack.



Sideboard Bob said:
ETA. Did anyone expect midnight poetry Jack on this fine Friday night?
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You never *expect* midnight poetry Jack. She just springs up once in a blue moon to cringe you off your mortal coil. I didn't expect fishy crisps either. Or the 'primeval urge' for cheese that... intensifies.

Speaking of mortal coils - Mr Shakespeare, I fixed it for you. Only changed a few words but I think you'll agree it's an improvement. #gifted #highiqbadpoetry

To tweet, or not to tweet, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in Southend to suffer
The mithering and withering of outrageous fortune,
Or to take Jubilee guns arms against a hellscape of squigs
And by opposing SLAY them. To die—to sleep, to bore
no more; and by a sleep to say we end
the heart-burn and the thousand digestive shocks
That Jack's flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To howl, to creep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of cheese what fever dreams may come,
when Jack's teefs have shuffled off their gummy soil,
Must give us pause—there's the bitter wittering
That makes calamity of so long life. (b. 1978- )

For who would bear fish crisps and 3-soup soup,
Th'obviously wrong maths, the caveman hygiene,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, dear Harold.
The law's delay in apprehending tax evasion,
To grunk and sweat (it's the cheese - a cheese sweat) under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after grift,
The undiscovere'd country, from whence Patreon
brings no returns, puzzles the owner of three freezers,
And makes her rather bear those ills she hasn't:
crumbly teeth, bedsoup night grief, pumbleitis, sinusitises, SEVERE itises,
Than fly to others that she knows not of?
Thus zero conscience doth make cons of us all,
And thus the naive hue of revolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of rock cakes,
And enterprises of great pricks and morons
With this regard their currents currants? turn awry
And sicken us all with tales of nightmeat and dread.
 
Oh my unholy ~fish salad~! I was not expecting GCSE Poetry Anthology and Tilde Jack. She’s definitely grunked herself up to date hasn’t she?!

And William Carlos Williams’ plums were someone else’s that he ate, which is about right for her, the absolute bleeping plum.

(PS Jack I ~strongly~ suspect that in your ~Intellectual~ Poetry Jack incarnation you no doubt typed and deleted Larkin’s This Be The Verse multiple times before tweeting out the rest of that shite, and on a similar note, the last line of which Plath poem you’re probably really thinking about too, you self-absorbed spiteful little ghoul)

Soapy Dolphin said:
Sounds thrilling...wow. 😐

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Why has she rewritten the Williams poem? Eat your nightmare fuel and go to sleep, Jack!

(Again, Jack is the only person on mirtazapine in history who still suffers chronic insomnia...)

BTW she did indeed the same Plath poem the time she inexplicably filled a bottle with blackberries. So yes, Poetry Jack begins and ends with the GCSE syllabus of the day. If she hadn't passed out in a cheese-fueled haze, she'd be quoting Hurricane Hits England at us now.
 
Soapy Dolphin said:
Aw bless! Is she spouting poetry (you see, you can use Google) because we questioned her IQ and discussed her (lack of) GCSEs?
She could easily afford to put herself through university and learn some actual, verifiable facts instead of agressively ranting for attention.
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Didn’t she start a degree in nutrition? Announced it for clappos on Twitter, then never mentioned again.
 
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