Welcome! I'm Clara, she/her. This blog is focused on comedy, comfort and calm vibes. Let's all have a nice and harmonious time together on tumblr. Feel free to chat :).
This blog was dedicated to Monty Python and will mostly contain comedy, nature, animals, food, other stuff and personal posts from now on
On this blog, I go by the name Clara, though it's not my real name (I feel more comfortable with this name since my best friend said it suits me the most).
My pronouns are she/her.
I am 26 years old and from Europe.
If you're a minor, please don't discuss adult topics and NSFW stuff with me.
I'm an INFP/ENFP cusp.
English is not my first language (I wish!) so please be patient with me! I'm trying my very best :).
My URL derives from Monty Python's Life of Brian, where they talk about their plan to enter Pontius Pilate's palace via Caesar Augustus Memorial Sewer
My profile picture is Mr. Pither, a lovely character from Monty Python's Flying Circus
I am a silly individual but can also be serious and I think a balance between both is nice :).
Other interests include history, art, (mostly vintage) music, aesthetics, astrology, linguistics & languages, geography, nature, eating, writing comedy or poems, watching films, knitting, having great conversations, painting, any kind of creative projects, and sleeping. I'm not a knowledgeable person about any of these subjects though (except for astrology perhaps), just an enjoyer.
In general, I am a simple, "boring" person who enjoys a quiet, comfortable and calm life so don't expect anything interesting from my part ๐ . I love my family and friends and I'm quite sentimental.
I would love to have a nice and harmonious time with everyone who would like to be mutuals! :) My favourite thing about fandoms is making friends and interacting, so feel free to ask anything!
This is the follow-up 'chapter' to 'The Cycling Tour: Continued'. Some people expressed their wish for a second part, so I thought I'd better write one! Mr. Pither finds himself on a ferry to Finland by a series of unfortunate events. This is where this chapter starts. Once again, the text is suitable for all audiences, but I'll add a warning for mentions of swearwords, food and messy eating. I hope you have fun reading this story ๐. Obviously, this is comedy and purely fictional, I don't share the characters' opinions and I don't own any rights to Monty Python characters. And obviously I'm not as funny as Monty Python so please don't expect the story to measure up to the episode this is based on. Please excuse my English, I'm not a native speaker.
"June 4th. Spent the first day in Finland, after a ferry accidentally brought me here. Looks different from what I heard, but it's very nice. When I descended from the ferry in my pyjamas, I was kindly greeted by the smell and sound of a loud construction site near the only hostel in town. The impressive pneumatic drill is active all 'round the clock and can still be heard in my dreams. I asked a passerby what the village is called, but he only said 'Finland' with a London accent. My bicycle rests in the hallway, as there is not much to cycle to here. Have to wait a few days until the next ferry can take me back to Cornwall. I am currently watching the telly before bed, but am planning to explore the lovely Finland and its culture a little more tomorrow."
Mr. Pither put his diary on the table next to his hostel bed, wished it a 'good night' and brought his attention back to the TV screen. How odd it was that everyone on Finnish television seemed to speak English. And it was not different in the streets... Mr. Pither was puzzled.
But there was a reason he was completely unaware of... he did not, in fact, stay in Finland, the country โ he stayed in a tiny English village located in Kent, confusingly also named 'Finland'. The ferry had made a short tour and let passengers back on land in this very town. But Mr. Pither had yet to find out.
He changed channels and stopped at the evening news, of which he could watch only the last report of the day.
The news reporter stood in a park with a man beside him:
"Yesterday evening, a group of unknown snails took a stand for environmental protection in a public park in Sheffield. In an artistic protest, the snails wrote the words 'fuck off' on the ground with their slime", the reporter said and turned towards the man.
"But how can we be sure it was a statement the snails were tying to issue, and not a simple message to the other animals or park visitors? To answer this burning question, we exemplarily have ex-expert Mr. Peter Expert with us, formerly trained in the field of snail art, but now completely unaware. Mr. Expert, exactly what can you tell us?"
"Well, um, if you look very closely, further down below the aforementioned words 'fuck off', a trained eye can spot the very largely written sentence 'This is an artistic protest statement to illustrate humanity's increasing distancing from the flora and fauna and a demand to create more nature reserves and affordable snail housing areas. Slime on ground, 1972.' It is very clear that we are witnessing a combination of street art, performance art, painting and protest here."
"Thank you for your evaluation, Mr. Expert. Is there anything else you can tell us about the statement?"
"I guess I can. Look, it's all written in cursive. Quite pretty, isn't it? These snails have got an eye for aesthetics."
"Thank you, Mr. Expert", the reporter said and turned back to the camera: "These were your evening news, nighty night and goodbye."
Mr. Pither changed to the next channel. There was a group of men sitting at an office table and another man speaking to the camera in the front:
"... For a long time, people believed that businessmen were coughing in meetings by simple coincidence, though in many cases, it has been an intricate language used by particularly adept businessmen. It is very easy to apply the coughing-language to your everyday life, and especially useful in situations like this one. A classic example: in a business meeting, these gentleman here want to communicate without being obvious or interrupting the presentation. A long cough, followed by two short coughs, means 'I'm bored'. Two loud, medium coughs, signal 'the meeting ends in 10 minutes, let's go to the pub afterwards.'"
Mr. Pither changed channels again, as he preferred not to cough if he did not have to. His eyes were glued to a basket full of vegetables, held by a scientist in a white lab coat. He decided to watch this science programme called 'Coping With The Microscope':
"Welcome back to 'Coping With The Microscope'. Today, we're going to examine how closely these different vegetables are genetically related. To do so, we need a scientifically approved microscope and a sample of each vegetable", the TV presenter explained.
"Here we have a bell pepper, named after its inventor Alexander Graham Bell, who built the world's first bell pepper out of tomatoes in 1876. He quickly found out how to create bell peppers ouf of more natural ingredients instead, but in the meantime invented the telephone due to frustration from not being able to find materials other than tomatoes for his bell pepper. This part of the bell pepper here is what we colloquially refer to as the 'pedicel'", he pointed towards the green stipe, "but which is scientifically known as 'little stemmy'. This part of the bell pepper is called the 'exocarp', though its scientific name is 'Lord Harold James Radford IV. of Braxley Hall'."
Mr. Pither could not watch a show about vegetables without having a bite of his sandwich, which he enjoyed while watching the scientist prepare the microscope.
"Now, we have set up the microscope for use. I just need to extract a sample from the vegetables to โ oh... I think we are missing the tool to extract the samples." He looked around the table, but then shrugged and looked back into the camera.
"Never mind, I am simply going to eat up all the vegetables in this big basket until a sample roughly the size of 1.357 ร 1.357 ร 0.009 cm per object remains. Hang on a minute", he explained and started taking big bites out of a cabbage. He was eating around a tiny square of cabbage, which he spared for the examination, and put it onto a little glass plate. Then he took the bell pepper and did the same thing once again.
Mr. Pither and the TV scientist synchronously ate their meals. The scientist's silently chewing face, devouring different vegetables from the basket, was shown on TV for another 20 minutes, until Mr. Pither dozed off.
The next morning, he woke up after a good night's sleep. He stretched out in his bed and looked at the TV screen at the opposite side of the room, only to find that the now very tired scientist was still chewing up the vegetables, and finally finished his last bite.
"Now... I have... eaten everything... and the.. the samples... can be... examined... under the... micro... scope ", he tried to keep his eyes open. "I'm measuring the size of the... samples." He put a ruler next to the sample and looked closely. His eyes widened. "NO!!! THESE SAMPLES ARE ALL 0.001 cm TOO SMALL! I CAN'T EXAMINE A THING!! ALL OF THIS WAS FOR NOTHING! NOTHING!!! NOTHING!!!", he yelled and stuffed the tiny vegetable samples into his mouth while crying.
Mr. Pither turned off the TV and fetched his diary: "June 5th. Watched a science programme last night, in which a scientist ate a whole basket of vegetables. I learnt a lot! It is now time to buy my own food for the day. Today, I am planning to go to town and explore Finland. I'm taking my bike with me. If I'm lucky, not all roads will be as narrow as what I've seen so far."
And so he did. Pushing his bike along the too-narrow path, he waved to the construction workers with a happy smile and told them about all the groceries on his list. Then, he pushed his bike through the tiny shopping area of Finland. He bought a bakewell tart, a sandwich, two chocolate bars and a bell pepper in the food store. As he was looking around the street, his eyes stopped by a big poster, saying "We're looking for someone who resembles a hedgehog as closely as possible. If that's you, call our number". Then, his eyes wandered farther, stopping at an 'All-purpose Shop'. Intrigued, he stepped inside.
A little bell rang as he entered. The shop assistant behind the counter was occupied by a conversation with a young woman. Behind the shop assistant, there was a shelf full of time capsules.
"What can I do for you, madam?"
"I need some time."
"How much time were you thinking of?"
"I don't have much money on me, so maybe 5 minutes? I didn't have enough time for breakfast."
The cashier picked up a time capsule off the middle of the shelf.
"Alright, madam. Please open your hands."
The woman did as told, and he opened the time capsule, tipped it over and emptied its invisible content into her hands.
"There you go. Time is money, that's ยฃ10. Now don't go 'round wasting your time, alright?", he joked around.
"Does this really work? How do I feel that I bought 5 minutes?"
"You can buy yourself some time with our high quality time capsules. We store time in there for you. And you notice your purchase by seeing 5 minutes pass on the clock. Hope this helped."
"Thank you", the woman giggled. "I suppose it does. Oh, I would also like to buy some happiness, please. Well, lately, I feel quite sad."
"No problem, madam, we can help you out."
He took a small card off a different shelf, along with a stamp, an ink-pad and a sticker. Then, he pressed the stamp onto the ink-pad and finally onto the card. The stamp printed the sentence "Don't worry, be happy" on the card, only that the word "worry" didn't catch any ink, turning the sentence into "Don't be happy". Next to the stamp, he pasted a sticker of a winking duck.
"There you go, this should do. Makes ยฃ20. That's ยฃ30 in total."
The woman handed him the money and left the shop, shifting the shop assistant's attention to Mr. Pither.
"What can I do for you, sir?"
"Hello! Well I was just 'round the corner buying a bakewell tart, a sandwich, two chocolate bars and a bell pepper and I saw your shopโ"
"What can I do for you, sir?", he asked again, annoyed.
"I would like to know what you're offering besides time and happiness."
"We sell air, stored in these jars over there. You know, different sizes depending on how much of our handmade air you want to breathe. We also sell single pebbles, should one on your pathway go missing, and we sell soap bubbles."
"But I can breathe air outside", Mr. Pither wondered.
"Well... Yes. You can also breathe air in here. But it's not our handmade air."
"What are the benefits of your handmade air?"
"There are none. The air is just taken from a different place."
"I would like to buy the soap bubbles then, pleaee."
"Alright", the shop assistant said, went to yet another shelf and took out a bottle of soap bubbles. He returned to his counter, faced Mr. Pither and blew a single soap bubble into his direction.
"Catch", he ordered.
Mr. Pither bent forward to catch the bubble, and it popped in his fist.
"Aw no! My bubble just popped!"
"That's what happens when you catch it. Makes ยฃ10. Or would you like another one?"
"Yes, please."
The shop assistant repeated his actions, and this time, Mr. Pither tried to make the bubble land on his palm. But naturally, it popped again after a few seconds.
"No! I'm out of luck!"
"But hopefully not out of money. Makes ยฃ20."
The shop assistant eyeballed the banknotes in Mr. Pither's hand. "Well, some things aren't made to last. Bubbles are symbolic for caducity. You could buy some time here... Or perhaps you would like to buy some happiness? We currently have it in stock."
"No thanks, I'm always happy", Mr. Pither told the shop assistant with a smile and left the shop.
"June 5th. I tried cycling around Finland, but all the roads were either too narrow, in repair, or full of cars. I ended up pushing my bike all the way to the bus stop, where I am now waiting for a sightseeing bus", he wrote in his diary.
Next to him, there was a young couple, also waiting for the bus. The man had a bag of onion rings in his hand, messily eating them and talking to his girlfriend, when, rather suddenly, but none the less slowly, he dropped to one knee and lethargically asked her "will you marry me?" with a full mouth, making parts of the onion rings fall out. "Yes!", she excitedly exclaimed, and he mumbled something inaudible, looked around, grabbed into his bag of onion rings and put an onion ring on her ring finger. "There, this should do for a few minutes. I'll get you a proper ring on our wedding day", he added.
The passersby clapped for the couple and the man bowed down as if he was an actor.
Finally, the bus arrived and everyone got on board.
"Welcome to our sightseeing bus tour through Finland. Come on, get in, hurry up, come on! Quick, quick!", the tour guide greeted in a hurry.
"Now fasten your seatbelts reaaally quickly, we're starting in a minute."
Everyone listened to his words. He checked the seatbelts, gave the driver a sign to go, and started the tour. The bus driver drove at full speed, taking all the passengers by surprise. The buildings were flashing by them, way too fast to recognise any shapes or details. It was all one blur.
The tour guide took a deep breath and started uttering facts about the buildings already rushing past on his left, at the speed of light:
"Which building?", someone in the back of the bus yelled, but the tour guide was already 3 sights ahead.
"Could you please speak more slowly? We can't understand a word!", someone else shouted.
"Alright, if that's what you want. But we're not going to catch up with the tour this way, and you don't have a clue which object I'm talking about now. Anyway, three streets away, there was the guildhall, built in 1734. To your right, you can see a blurred sculpture made in 1852, which will look nothing like the real thing on your photographs. Now on your left, you can see the corner of โ oh, we've already turned into a different street, too bad. That little dot there in the distance is the famous castle of Chippy the clown, and over there is the house of my uncle Wilfred. Oh, I blinked so I might have pointed in the wrong direction."
While he was speaking, a different sightseeing bus appeared next to them. The driver had a competitive facial expression, and used the built-in microphone of the bus to speak to the driver of Mr. Pither's sightseeing bus:
"We have already checked off 39 sights. You can't beat that, haha!"
Now the other bus driver took a hold of his microphone: "Guess what, we've seen 41!". He increased the speed and raced against the other sightseeing bus.
The tour guide knew what to do, and went back to describing the blurred sights at his former speed once again.
When the tour ended, the driver and tour guide gave each other a high five and cheered about seeing more sights in a shorter time span than the competing sightseeing bus. Some passengers complained that they wasted their money and saw nothing of the village, but the tour guide placated them and explained that there was nothing interesting in town anyway, but that they could now tell their friends they had done a sightseeing tour through Finland, where they saw 45 sights, and they saved time that they could spend otherwise on their holiday.
"June 5th. I'm back at the hostel. Finland is a beautiful country, reminds me of home. Couldn't cycle at all, so I pushed my bike all the way today. It fell on my grocery bag anyway, and damaged all the food. What a day! Am back to watching the telly. Finnish TV is way more interesting than English TV." He closed the diary again, placed it back beside the bed and shifted his gaze to the screen. There was an advertisement for a tool kit made out of plush, to avoid damage on the furniture, but Mr. Pither changed the channel, as he wasn't fond of advertising.
He decided on watching the history channel, where historians were talking about a medieval document, written by a monk:
"This is clearly a medieval comic. The classic comic style is evident; we have drawings and speech bubbles. What is the most extraordinary, is the fact that all the characters โ fellow monks โ have black horizontal rectangles painted over their faces, covering their eyes, just like what you see on TV. The monk must have cared about privacy protection, anonymising the other monks. This piece is a milestone in the history of facial anonymising", the historian explained to the camera, and continued:
"For nearly 35 years, historians have tried to find out if the document is authentically medieval, until we discovered the inscription '100% historically approved', written by the same monk, next to a medieval quality label, drawn with a quill and ink. It depicts a 'thumbs up' gesture, so it must be genuine โ"
"Interruption. We interrupt this programme, because the TV broadcaster has run out of money. At this point, there would have been an ad break, but the sponsors demand us to pay them, which we cannot afford. In order to not confuse you by not showing your beloved ads, we are going to show you a picture puzzle of a meadow. Please find blade of grass no. 7982 C."
There was silence. The viewer was left to minutes with the picture puzzle. Mr. Pither felt tired and couldn't find the blade of grass, so he decided to sleep instead and turned off the TV.
"June 6th. Today, the ferry is going to take me home, but I will have to wait until 7 pm. Before that, I will visit the local theatre. And before before that, I will buy my culinary belongings as usual. This time, my bike stays in the hostel, so my food doesn't get squashed."
He spent the morning shopping, going for a walk, watching the construction site and walking around the borders of the town, because it was so small. At 4pm, the theatre opened its gates, and he bought a ticket for the first row. Soon after, the curtain lifted, and a woman presented the acts of the afternoon:
"Welcome, my dear friends of the theatre. This afternoon, we have an extraordinary programme. First, let me announce Mr. Franklin Dobbs, who is celebrating his stage debut!"
The woman walked to the side of the stage, as a middle-aged, smiley man with a bald patch entered the stage and waved to the audience. There was sounding applause. Then, the man turned around and left the stage again, and the woman walked back to the microphone.
"This, ladies and gentlemen, was Mr. Franklin Dobbs, who just stood on a stage for the first time in his life. Next, we are going to see the modern, avantgarde play 'Boredom Of The Actor'. Enjoy!"
She walked off-stage, and the curtain dropped. Sounds of a chair being placed down could be heard, and the curtain lifted again, showing a man with a sober facial expression and all-blue clothes, sitting on a chair, a blue backdrop behind him. He did not bat an eye, but just sat there, with the most bored face. The audience was watching him and was waiting for something to happen, but it didn't. One and a half hours passed until the show was over.
Finally! The hour had come, the ferry was in near sight and Mr. Pither had his backpack and bike ready. As he wanted to buy a ticket, the ticket inspector raised an eyebrow.
"I must see your bakery collector's card of the local bakery, please."
Mr. Pither had it in his jacket and handed it over. The ticked inspector scanned it with a sharp gaze.
"No, sorry. You can't come aboard."
"Why not?"
"There are two stickers missing in your collection, until you would have gotten 10% discount on a loaf of bread. It is required to respect the local bakery's efforts with your loyalty, sir."
"I have been loyal! But I haven't been here for more than 4 days. How am I ever going to get back to England now?", he desperately asked. Only to gain a big laugh from the ticket inspector.
"You have been in England all along! Where did you think you are?", he asked in disbelief.
Mr. Pither only pointed to the 'Finland' sign by the water.
"You didn't honestly think you were in the country of Finland, did you? I mean, just look around. We are in Kent."
"Kent, really?"
"Yes. And you can simply cycle back home to wherever it is you live. Goodbye."
"I live in Cornwall. That is quite far away! Looks like another unwanted cycling tour."
And so, Mr. Pither kept cycling, as he always did.
----------------------------------------
I hope you enjoyed the continuation of the continuation of Mr. Pither's adventures and it made you laugh a little! :) Please let me know what you think and which part you preferred! I don't know if it's necessary noting this, but I will do it anyway: the English village called Finland doesn't exist and the history of the bell pepper is also completely made up (obviously ๐), just like almost everything educational mentioned in this story, or the logic behind the contents of the shop. And also, please don't drive as fast as the mentioned bus and don't participate in races of this kind.
This is my first "fanfic". Or I should rather say, it's my take on what a continuation of Mr. Pither's cycling tour could look like. The text is suitable for all audiences, but I'll add a warning for mentions of alcohol & lots of food. I hope you have fun reading this story ๐. Obviously, this is comedy and purely fictional, I don't share the characters' opinions and I don't own any rights to Monty Python characters. And obviously I'm not as funny as Monty Python so please don't expect the story to measure up to the episode this is based on. Please excuse my English, I'm not a native speaker.
"June 2nd. Started a new cycling tour and don't know where it's going to takes me. Packed a sandwich with ham and lettuce for 3 o'clock, a can of soup for 4 o'clock, and some milk chocolate for in-between. Just before I started my cycling tour 30 minutes ago, I had a sausage with mashed potatoes. Haven't fallen off yet, what a stroke of luck!"
With these words, Mr. Pither closed his little diary and sat back on his bicycle. It was yet another sunny day somewhere in the English countryside, and Mr. Pither had a content smile on his face as he was enjoying the warm breeze and the bright sun. Then he fell off again.
"June 2nd, still. Fell off 10 minutes after the last diary entry, onto a soft haystack right next to a barn. This is where I'm currently sitting. I'm spotting a sign by the door which has 'auction' written on it. Did you know there are auctions in barns? Oh, right, it's only me that's going to read this, so of course you, I mean I, know it now. I am curious if they auction mustard, which I still need for my 3 o'clock sandwich."
Mr. Pither closed the diary and took a seat in the last row of the barn. On the makeshift stage, a roundly shaped object which he could not identify from the distance, was displayed on a small, red, velvet cushion.
"Next up, we have this brand new, trendy Roman mural from 400 BC for sale. It's in top condition. We carved this piece of mural out of a wall to showcase it here, but if you want the rest or it, you've got to travel to the house it's from, of course. In Rome. So, we'll start at ยฃ50.000 because of its historic value. And take into consideration that you'd get a complete and fully painted ancient wall!" explained the cheery auctioneer.
There was silence in the room, accompanied by confused faces. The auctioneer started to show signs of insecurity. After a moment, a woman in the audience spoke up: "Isn't there a hole in the wall now, because you carved this piece of mural out?"
Another moment of silence and bewilderment followed, and more and more people in the audience agreed with the woman.
"Oh, uh. Well... Yes, I suppose so. Didn't think of that, hehe. Anyway, just use it as a window and you'll be fine. Adds a modern touch to it, doesn't it? Who wants to bid more?"
And once again, his question was answered with silence, a few quiet scoffs or chuckling.
Now, the auctioneer regained his confidence: "Oh come on, we drove all the way to Rome to get you this stupid thing and now you don't want it? I bet if this was a singular exhibit in a museum, you would all dream of owning it."
Another audience member raised his voice: "We can't even have the rest of the mural if it's in Rome and we live here! And now you destroyed the art!"
"And the Roman house isn't included in the price, only that one wall, so we couldn't even live in it and see the mural if we wanted to!", another potential bidder exclaimed.
"Come on people, don't be such spoilsports! It's beautiful, look, it's art! Some people painted it reeaally long ago and it's your chance to have it. And you'll figure out a way to see the Roman house, I'm sure", the desperate auctioneer begged.
Suddenly, an assistant entered the stage and rushed towards the auctioneer. He whispered something into his ear, resulting in a wide-eyed expression from the auctioneer.
"Oh. Well. I hear our team of archaeologists just blew up the ancient excavated Roman house because they thought it's no longer needed, now that we carved out a piece of the mural. Tough luck. Anyway, it has long been empty. I'm asking again, does anyone want these now even more valuable remains of the mural? Again, we'll start at ยฃ50.000 because of the historical value. Does anyone bid more?"
"60.000, 60.000, ha ha!", a screechy voice shouted from the last row. Mr. Pither turned towards it, and found that it was a parrot on a man's shoulder, that had just bid for the mural.
"Shut up!", its owner shouted. But it was too late.
"Does anyone bid more? No? Good. Sold for ยฃ60.000 to the parrot on this gentleman's shoulder!", the auctioneer yelled hastily.
The parrot's owner now stood up: "I beg your pardon! My parrot is an animal and can not buy a Roman mural!"
"No? But it did. We all witnessed it. Next!"
"An animal is not capable of managing sales transactions and I will not allow it. I could never afford to buy a Roman mural and I would never need one!"
"Your parrot seems to need it. It's sold and the parrot or its owner, meaning you, has to pay. End of discussion. Now on to the next object."
"No, those are hardly valid rules, I-"
"Oh for goodness sake, Phil, just for once let me have what I want!", the parrot screamed, leaving its owner stunned.
Now the auctioneer grabbed a megaphone to talk over the man and his parrot: "Noooow onto the next exciting object! I'm auctioning a brilliant idea that I've had in the back of my mind for a long time and you'll only hear what it is after you bought it!"
Mr. Pither decided that he had seen enough and walked back to his bicycle outside the barn. He was feeling hungry, and it was before 3 o'clock, so he couldn't eat his 3 o'clock sandwich or his 4 o'clock soup just yet. Too bad he hadn't been able to bid for some mustard. He decided to cycle along his path until he found a restaurant, while pondering the fact that he had just seen a parrot buy an ancient Roman mural located in Rome for ยฃ60.000, but which now owned only remains of said mural, because the house had just been blown up by the very archaeologists who uncovered it.
After a few scenic views alongside late-spring meadows and streams, and 5,2 times of falling off, there was a sign in sight, belonging to the restaurant "Art ร la Carte". Mr. Pither didn't speak French, but he understood it was a restaurant when he saw cutlery painted on the sign. He cycled straight towards the restaurant.
Inside, there was luxurious interior. This was an expensive restaurant. The walls were made out of polished wood, which shone in the dimmed light of sparkling chandeliers. Mr. Pither was hungry and this was the first restaurant he found, so he looked for a nice table and sat down.
It didn't take long until a waiter appeared by his side and handed him the menu.
"Welcome to 'Art ร la Carte', sir, the first art restaurant in Cornwall."
"Hello!", Mr. Pither replied happily and turned to face the menu.
All the dishes had strange names, combining a meal with the name of a famous artist. Mr. Pither didn't know what to make of it, or what exactly he would be served. Luckily, the waiter was still patiently standing beside him.
"Excuse me, I was wondering, what's 'Steak Picasso'?", Mr. Pither asked.
The waiter had his answer ready at hand: "It's an ugly steak carelessly thrown together with scattered vegetables and smashed potatoes as a side order, sir."
Mr. Pither had a confused look on his face. "Oh, you mean mashed potatoes, right? I love them! Just before I arrived here I had mashed potatoes at home, I put milk in them and-"
"No sir, I said smashed potatoes. Our cook is really, really bored and unmotivated, so he randomly smashes the food onto the plate to get the servings done quickly."
"Oh, I see."
"He calls it art, so he can set high prices for his loveless creations. 'Once the fun, twice the price' is what he always likes to say", the waiter explained with a chuckle and dreamy eyes full of memories. "He also says, that with a lot of imagination, the scattered food reminds of a Picasso painting, because you can barely tell what you're eating. And that's his reasoning for making it expensive."
"Oh dear, the poor potatoes", Mr. Pither said with a contemplative gaze, and continued: "I'll have a 'Steak Picasso', please."
"Would you like anything else, sir? Customers love the steak with 'Sauce Dalรญ'."
"What's that?"
"It's cheap ketchup splattered all over the food."
"So why isn't it called ketchup?"
"Because it's so effusive, it drips down the steak just like the clocks in Salvador Dalรญ's paintings."
"That's nice! If the ketchup is cheap, I'll take it."
"Nahaha, it's cheap but not low priced. The boss says it's art and you need the Monet, haha. Get it? Because Monet sounds a bit like money. Anyway, in other words, it's expensive and costs ยฃ15 extra."
"Oh dear. Well I think mixing two artists in one meal might be a bit much. I suppose the chaps wouldn't like it, so I'll pass on the sauce, thank you", Mr. Pither said with a little laugh.
"Very well, sir. The cook will prepare your food after he's done knitting a pair of new underpants. Last time I checked, he only had 10 more rows to go. It shouldn't take more than half an hour, unless he makes a mistake and has to undo his process. In this case, he usually cries and takes a frustrated nap afterwards. Either that, or he reads manuals of electronic devices that he gave away more than 10 years ago, depending on his mood."
"Alright, I can wait."
Just as the waiter was about to turn away, he turned back with a faked look of pity on his face. "Oh, pardon me, I just remembered the other orders I took earlier. Of course those ones are going to be prepared before yours, which is going to prolong your waiting a little. As a service for waiting customers, our restaurant offers amusing entertainment, such as doing our financial paperwork for us."
"What a stroke of luck! That's very kind of you", said Mr. Pither happily.
While the waiter headed to the staff area, Mr. Pither looked around. Nearly every other customer worked on a pile of papers. There seemed to be more paper than food. All the other guests had taken up on the kind offer to be entertained by managing the restaurant's finances.
Finally, the waiter was ready to bring him his pile of papers on a silver platter. "There you go. Now, the first 30 papers are our earnings from last October. I want you to thoroughly check them and add up the sums."
"You earned 30 papers in one month? Very nice, such luck! Last time I earned that many papers, I was in school and it was all homework."
"No, the numbers are what we earned. Look, the numbers represent the amount of money the restaurant made last October. And I need you to add them up to see what we earned in total. Understood?"
Without waiting for an answer, the waiter turned to go.
"Wait!", Mr. Pither exclaimed.
"Yes?" The waiter was visibly annoyed.
"I have a question."
"What is it?"
"Why are you called the waiter, when I'm the one who waits for you to come back with my food?"
The waiter sighed and headed off to the kitchen without giving an answer.
Mr. Pither didn't know what to do. Maths were not his strong suit. "But now I told him to wait, so he has become a waiter. That is odd", he mumbled to himself. 84 minutes had passed until the waiter returned with the 'Steak Picasso'. It looked exactly as unappetising as promised.
"This meal looks just like my squashed sandwich that was crushed between the wheel of my bicycle and the ground. I think this dish looks even more damaged," Mr. Pither observed.
The waiter just shrugged and eyed the stack of paper. "You didn't finish any of these! I told you to add up the numbers! What kind of guest are you to ask for entertainment and then don't make use of it!", he shouted through the entire restaurant.
Mr. Pither said "I'm sorry", while taking a bite off his steak, but the waiter had already stormed off into the kitchen with the papers.
For the rest of the meal, he was left alone with his thoughts and his food. He was already daydreaming of his next meal, the meal after that, and the snacks in-between. Although the dish was admittedly tasty.
To clear the table and bring the bill, another waiter made an appearance. Mr. Pither sensed that his original waiter was still upset with him.
"I hope you enjoyed your meal, sir."
"Yes, it was nice, thank you." When he saw the bill, shock overcame him.
"We hope to see you again, sir, the door is always open", the waiter said.
Mr. Pither looked up and furrowed his brow. "Actually, no it isn't." To help out with the situation, he quickly made his way to the front door and opened it widely. "Now it is!"
A strong wind gust entered the restaurant, moved several sheets of paper off the stacks and swirled them through the air, until it swept them outside into the skies and far off into the distance.
"NOO! THOSE WERE OUR MOST IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS!", the waiter shouted while chasing after the sheets of paper. The other waiters heard him and joined him in trying to catch what they could.
"June 2nd. Been thrown out of the restaurant and told never to return. Bought a chicken leg for 5 o'clock afterwards. I'm continuing my cycling tour with another damaged sandwich. My soup can remains intact, what a stroke of luck!"
This village did not seem to be what Mr. Pither wanted to spend time in any longer, so he took his bicycle and cycled on, without falling off more than twice. The can of soup now had a dent. It was half past two โ very close to his sandwich time, so he had to hurry up with finding a new destination. He cycled into the nearest small town and found a little bar to refresh with some water and to have a short rest.
The bar was almost empty; the bustle usually started in the evening. Mr. Pither heard the wavering, obviously drunken bartender babbling a song behind the counter, while the radio was playing a science show throughout the bar:
"Welcome, welcome, oh thanks for the applause. Today, I would like to introduce some fabulous guests to you! But that's a bit of an unrealistic goal, isn't it? It's impossible, we only have regular guests, I think. Anyway, in our studio with us is the first ever university professor fully made out of modelling clay, who went on to write a groundbreaking thesis about human psychology", the radio announcer said, but was cut off by the bartender, who had finally noticed our Mr. Pither: "A man walks into a bar and just stands in the middle of it โthat's you! Ahahaha!" He wholeheartedly laughed until Mr. Pither came closer and sat down at the bar.
"I'd like to have a glass of water, please."
"A man walks into a bar and says 'I'd like to have a glass of water, please', ahahaha!", the bartender snorted and did an impersonation.
"Haha, that's a good one", Mr. Pither answered with a smile.
"A man walks into a bar and says 'haha, that's a good one'. Ahahahaha!", the bartender kept laughing.
"Very nice. Could you, just, please stop, please?" Mr. Pither carefully asked.
"A man walks into a bar and says 'very nice. Could you, just, please stop, please?' Ahahahahahaha!"
"Please."
"Alright, alright, I'll stop. But these 'a man walks into a bar' jokes are just too good. And they're so true, I've seen so many men walk into a bar. You know, there's a proverb-".
"What does the proverb say?"
"What do I know! I just told you that proverbs exist. You need to loosen up and have a proper drink, mate, not water. Get plastered, mate! Ahahaha!"
"Oh really? Thanks for the advice", Mr. Pither said, stood up and walked right to the doctor's office across the street.
"Good afternoon, I'd like to get plastered", he told the doctor, and was met with a laugh.
"You mean you'd like to have a plaster put on you?"
"Uh, no, thank you, I don't need that."
"Well, is there any other reason you're here?"
"Yes, my leg is broken."
"Alright, unfortunately I lost my medical equipment in a game of poker, so I can't examine your leg."
"I'm talking about the chicken leg I was planning to eat at 5 o'clock. It broke while I fell off my bike."
"Mr-...?"
"Pither."
"Yes, Mr. Pither, do you like pocket tissues? And please answer honestly and with full consideration."
"Well, I suppose they can be useful, but I don't like having to blow my nose, so I guess not. Why?", he said after a pause of careful thinking.
"Oh nothing, I was just curious. It's a normal question you'd ask anyone. What next? Ah, right. These are the fantastic prizes you can win today."
The doctor pressed a button and a TV advertising tune started to play.
"You can win one of these three packs of pocket tissues, whether you like them or not!" He pulled them out from underneath his desk. "The dynamic shape makes them easy to carry around wherever you go. Just open the lid and discover the pocket tissues you never knew you wanted. Experience a nose freer than the wind."
"Oh, well... That's nice."
"I'm sorry, I think I exaggerated a little. Because their packaging is disgusting. Just look at this one. Ugh, no. Who designs a package with these two colours side by side? And that cartoonish nose under that cheap font. No. I always hated this brand. I cannot give more than 2 out of 5 stars." He shoved the package aside with disgust and grabbed the next one. "It doesn't get better. These ones are really scratchy. They don't adjust to the shape of the nose well. And they have this weird smell. 3 out of five stars, and I'm being generous. And this one โ don't get me started. My medical advice to you, Mr. Pither, is to decline my offer to win any of these prizes and to choose another brand of pocket tissues on your own, should you need one."
"Thank you for the kind advice, but I don't need them at the moment."
"Well then... Do you have a favourite pharmaceutical, Mr. Pither?"
"No, I don't think I do."
"Hm. That's an odd thing to say."
"If you excuse me, I have to get back to my bicycle or I'll miss my 3 o'clock sandwich. Thank you for your time, goodbye."
"Hang on a second, please โ I'll give you this little plastic figurine of a dog."
"Oh why? Thank you! That is very kind."
"Just because. Always keep it with you, it's important. But also completely useless. And now get out, I'm a very busy doctor with a lot of patients but limited patience."
Mr. Pither left the building as told. He decided to stroll through the village for the rest of the day and have his meals as planned. He had had enough strange moments for a day.
The evening came along and he tried to find a place to stay. Mr. Pither settled in a hostel in the centre of the town.
"My way led me to a nice comfy hostel where I'm now getting ready for sleep in my warm bed. Good night and get some rest", he wrote in his diary, or perhaps this was a letter to his diary. Then, he turned off the light and drifted into cosy slumber.
In the middle of the night, he became thirsty and woke up. His hand reached for the light switch of the bedside lamp, until his sleepy eyes noticed the light in his room was already on.
He sat up, and began to realise that he was surrounded by a class of art students and their easels, painting him in his sleep.
"No no, you need to pay attention to the posture! The dynamism of the blanket needs more emphasis, try again", the art professor grumbled loudly, as he helped one of his students with the painting.
"Excuse me, I booked this room first. If you'd be so kind to let me sleep in silence โ I don't want to be hungry again before breakfast time but that's hard to achieve if I wake up at night", Mr. Pither requested.
The art professor and his students all watched him from opposite the bed. "Nooo, you can't change your pose! How are my students going to complete their paintings now? The whole composition has changed! Go back to sleep", the professor scolded him.
Mr. Pither looked at the blanket and saw that it was covered with flowers and a sleeping plush toy pig on his knees.
"Don't art students usually paint in art school or studios?", he asked.
"Art schools or studios usually don't have beds. The hostel and our art school made an agreement to let students paint portraits here", the professor replied with a dismissive hand gesture.
"Well, I can't sleep like this, I'm terribly sorry. I will catch a bus and look for a room in another town. Don't be disturbed by my departure, just go on painting the bed", Mr. Pither said while taking his backpack and walking out of the room in his pyjamas, in the middle of the night.
He took the next bus he could get, and dozed off again...
"June 3rd. Woke up in a bus at 8 o'clock. Missed my 7 o'clock breakfast time. It appears I took a coach instead of a bus, which is now parked on a ferry to Finland. Seems like I won't be cycling anywhere soon. My dear Yorkshire pudding remains intact, what a stroke of luck!"
----------------------------------------
I hope you enjoyed my continuation of Mr. Pither's cycling tour and it could make you laugh a little! :) Let me know what you think! Excuse me if it was disappointing โ it was a spontaneous idea and I wrote it in two days because I'm quite busy at the moment. ๐ For as long as I've known Monty Python, I've dreamt of writing for/with them ๐
Describe a wholesome piece of media in as sinister a way as possible. Or vice versa, describe a sinister piece of media in as wholesome a way as possible. The categories are entirely subjective.
Thank you for the tag, dear @thesuetyouforgot! ๐ This sounds VERY fun! So I decided to do a few of them ๐
"A young rat with a culinary talent has to escape his restrictive family in order to gain freedom. Fate strikes and tears him away from his relatives in a disasterous moment, forcing him to live a life in poverty on his own, and to face a harsh society. He meets Linguini, an untalented human cook, and forms a contract with him to help each other survive their circumstances. Rat Remi soon learns about the power structures, manipulations and immorality of the culinary world, and has to decide if the human really is a friend to be trusted..." โ Ratatouille (2007)
"A young girl is drugged and quickly loses sight of reality. The viewer accompanies her through her horror trip, in which she soon confuses reality with her drug induced hallucinations. She's pulled into the depths of her psyche, where she meets a smoking caterpillar, a smiling cat, twin eggs, a dragon, and many other wondrous creatures. Can she escape the maze of her own mind?" โ Alice In Wonderland (1951)
"Firey eye Sauron only has one goal in life โ to get back his long-lost treasured ring! But he's not the only one to fancy the golden bling-ring! Our friend Gollum keeps an eye on the pretty piece of jewellery as well. And then there's Frodo, a hobbit who currently owns the object of interest. The three of them quarrel with each other, and soon the whole continent of Middle Earth is in on the fight! An exciting journey takes the ring to many places. Whose treasure box is worthy of the one ring to rule them all?" โ Lord Of The Rings (2001)
"Hooray, it's dinosaur day! Welcome to Jurassic Park, an animal shelter for prehistoric dinosaurs who seek a loving home in the wild. As the dinosaurs discover their freedom outside the confines of the park, they find food all around." โ Jurassic Park (1993)
Describe a wholesome piece of media in as sinister a way as possible. Or vice versa, describe a sinister piece of media in as wholesome a way as possible. The categories are entirely subjective.
Thank you for the tag, dear @thesuetyouforgot! ๐ This sounds VERY fun! So I decided to do a few of them ๐
"A young rat with a culinary talent has to escape his restrictive family in order to gain freedom. Fate strikes and tears him away from his relatives in a disasterous moment, forcing him to live a life in poverty on his own, and to face a harsh society. He meets Linguini, an untalented human cook, and forms a contract with him to help each other survive their circumstances. Rat Remi soon learns about the power structures, manipulations and immorality of the culinary world, and has to decide if the human really is a friend to be trusted..." โ Ratatouille (2007)
"A young girl is drugged and quickly loses sight of reality. The viewer accompanies her through her horror trip, in which she soon confuses reality with her drug induced hallucinations. She's pulled into the depths of her psyche, where she meets a smoking caterpillar, a smiling cat, twin eggs, a dragon, and many other wondrous creatures. Can she escape the maze of her own mind?" โ Alice In Wonderland (1951)
"Firey eye Sauron only has one goal in life โ to get back his long-lost treasured ring! But he's not the only one to fancy the golden bling-ring! Our friend Gollum keeps an eye on the pretty piece of jewellery as well. And then there's Frodo, a hobbit who currently owns the object of interest. The three of them quarrel with each other, and soon the whole continent of Middle Earth is in on the fight! An exciting journey takes the ring to many places. Whose treasure box is worthy of the one ring to rule them all?" โ Lord Of The Rings (2001)
"Hooray, it's dinosaur day! Welcome to Jurassic Park, an animal shelter for prehistoric dinosaurs who seek a loving home in the wild. As the dinosaurs discover their freedom outside the confines of the park, they find food all around." โ Jurassic Park (1993)
