16 January 2013



My morning’s disapprobation is displayed graphically
in the face of He who would Rule all He sees; having
to languish in ‘cold’ outside the screen door means
my misanthropy’s deemed a classical case by a dog
as equally human as I, his view naturally, and we’ll
hear more as day progresses; and it is thus piercing
whines, guttural yips, despaired moans are vogue in
expressions of accusatorily dogged intensity 

Mate I say, th’ acting’s way too self-centred, all th’
fancy scratching fails to make me feel guilty ‘cause
th’ vocals are overdone – n’ th’ timing’s abysmal;
comedians who can’t get it right don’t get laughs,
maniacal glaring’s ok but too obviously assures an
impetus of pretentious skulduggery at back of it
© 9 December 2012, I. D. Carswell