Gastro-Ossuary

I hope this isn’t too late to be entered into the Appleyard/Alsop architectural competition.

Inspired by Gaw’s account of the ossuary of Hythe Church, and mindful of the requirement that the building be ‘multi-purpose’, I noticed a gap in the market for some sort of mausoleum which also offers high-quality dining featuring locally-sourced organic produce. After intensive focus-grouping, I rejected both CharnelHouseSnackz and reliquary/BAR as brands in favour of the more direct 'Gastro-Ossuary' (pictured below).



90% of the seats in the Café-Bar (1) offer unrestricted views of the Ossuary (2), allowing diners (or, indeed, casual drinkers) to reflect on their mortality and corporeality as they sample the seasonal menu. The slaughterhouse (3) is situated upstairs and accessed via a central staircase (or lift for the disabled); or by the pig steps (5) from the organic free-range farm (4). The ‘Noseybonk’ crèche and play area (6) is separated from the slaughterhouse by the Hub (7), a vast black prohibitively-expensive marble oblong, which acts as a central focus-point for the whole building. The attic (8) can be used for storage or converted into two reasonable-sized double bedrooms.

The Thief of Time

I take virtually no interest in Grand Prix (it is the anti-sport sport) but yesterday morning I caught an interview on BBC 1 with Jenson Button, during the course of which he said something along the lines of: “I was carving whole chunks of time out of the guys in front.”

Instantly I quailed, stricken by a vision of some supernatural villain, probably Noseybonk-faced, stalking his victims with a diabolical scythe, every cut and swish of which slices a decade from their precious stock of Time, leaving them prematurely wrinkled, saddened, gasping and limp. Ugh.

Yeah, sorry for burdening you with that nightmare on a Monday morning.

Mr Noseybonk Returns

Mr Noseybonk Returns
(A duet)

Creeping under bridges, peeping through the drains,
Noseybonk goes where no-one else can!
So always mind the gap when you’re stepping off the train.
Noseybonk! Noseybonk! Noseybonk Man!

He can curl up very small, all twisty and bended,
Noseybonk can squeeze into such wee spaces!
So never leave suitcases or bags unattended.
Noseybonk appears in the least expected places!

Who is that moving in the Deep End of the pool?
Noseybonk sees in the gloomiest dark!
So don’t run by the side, and follow all the rules.
Noseybonk can swim like a Great White Shark!

Underneath the pavement, grabbing at your feet,
Noseybonk! Noseybonk! No-one knows how!
So always take care when you’re crossing the street.
Noseybonk! Noseybonk! Where is he now?

Mr Noseybonk

Mr Noseybonk - a poem for children

Mr Noseybonk lives 'neath the stairs,
Mr Noseybonk never says his prayers,
Naughty Mr Noseybonk,
Noseybonk Man.

Mr Noseybonk knows where to find you,
Mr Noseybonk, is he behind you?
Wicked Mr Noseybonk,
Noseybonk Man.

Mr Noseybonk never goes to sleep,
Mr Noseybonk, upstairs he creeps,
Can he see you, Noseybonk?
Noseybonk can.

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See also:

Mr Noseybonk Returns

The woman in the window

Peter’s comment about the beast behind the sea-radiator giving Brit Jnr nightmares got me thinking about the things that frighten children.

In fact, it’s quite hard to predict what will traumatise kiddies, isn’t it? Accidential exposure to horror films can leave no impression while seemingly harmless illustrations in Ladybird books might haunt you for years.

I remember finding the opening titles to Miss Marple terribly disturbing. Particularly that woman in the window.