Tamils - a Trans State Nation..

"To us all towns are one, all men our kin.
Life's good comes not from others' gift, nor ill
Man's pains and pains' relief are from within.
Thus have we seen in visions of the wise !."
Tamil Poem in Purananuru, circa 500 B.C 

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Home > Tamil National ForumSelected Writings - Chandiravarman Sinnathurai > An Ode to Professor Typo - "Pilfering Print Space"


Selected Writings -  Fr. Chandiravarman Sinnathurai

An Ode to Professor Typo
"Pilfering Print Space"
[Health Warning: To be read with a straight face]
6 March 2006

Find me a way
To get to Articulate Land
Mould me the clay
Bury yah� brain in the sand
Lay the table with Rose water at hand
Marmite on French toast, Horlicks no sugars
Mind yah� manners
�Excuse my French�.

Fly me o�er in a hot-air balloon
Up above the Tinsel Baboon
Let me catch an aerial view
Of da� frozen chosen few
Speakin� Pappadong♫ hullabaloo
Inside the Cock �n� Bull Saloon

You see! I see
Lemon and Iced tea
This land is for �cultured� Oxymora
Clones of Arctic monkeys
Chattin� and eatin� flunkeys
Drilling holes on the Ozone
O, Zone? Another war zone?

I met a grand old Typewriter (aka. TYPO)
Wearing stoned-washed 501
Crock-skin booties�n da sun
Silk scarf, Bowler, Red rose in da� front
Pink Floyd acid age Rasta pun
Morris Minor with a rugg�d run

Typewriter said:
�Every one here speaks of wasted years
Donning shrunken �academic robes�
Concealing well their Oxbridge woes
Staring each others� flaming fears
Sipping Single Malt and Beer
Lifting college ties for a golden cheer!
Eating Organic Pumpkin� pie
With cucumber, HP sauce and fries (home grown freshly frozen)
And the Menu read:
�Travel, divert, or take a laxative�.

Do people have �real jobs?�
Around here,
�O no!�, �yes; yeeesss� �
Typo blink-blinked and blushed:

He gathered his thoughts and meant to say -
�Pilfering print space
Cheating and manipulating the public
O La! The Press is free for all!
Press �aint the Public
That�s a little oblique
Public is really a phantom
To be used by stealth and quantum
Print any Bunkum
Underwritten by the quango Guild of �Plonkem�♦
Welcome to the world of
The Democratic Republic of Articulate Land� [DRAL].

Really? Really!
Yes, O dearly,
How does your garden grow?
On fresh cow dung
And the balding Ding-Dong
The Ceylonese Scare crow you no?

Bon app�tit!
Excuse my French�
With these parting words and some not for print
Professor Typo vanished into the star-spangled sky
Leaving me high and dry
Alone and lost in the city of Pilfering Cry!

♫Crisp dialect spoken in Articulate Land; Hullabaloo is the root language of Babel origins.

♦ Plonkem is a jargon of sophistication used by professional Plonkers. Professor Typo spoke radical Franco-Latin with an accent on �excuse�.



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