Anybody here ever heard of Myles na Gopaleen? You might know him better as Flann O'Brien, or maybe Brian O'Nolan (also spelt O'Nualáin and O'Nualláin). Other pen names included George Knowall, John James Doe, Brother Barnabas, Count O'Blather, Peter the Painter and Winnie Wedge.

Or perhaps you don't...

He wrote a number of novels as Flann O'Brien, but as Myles na Gopaleen he wrote an extraordinary column called Cruiskeen Lawn (The Full Little Jug) in the Irish Times between 1940 and his death in 1966. The column contains a mind-bending cast of characters, including the Brother, a man with a solution to absolutely everything; the Plain People of Ireland, a sort of Irish Greek chorus, ever ready to dispense folk wisdom, and Keats and Chapman, who undergo all sorts of improbable adventures, ending in terrible puns. Here's an example:
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Keats was presented with an Irish terrier, which he humorously named Byrne. One day the beast strayed from the house and failed to return at night. Everyone was distressed, save Keats himself. He reached reflectively for his violin, a fairly passable timber of the Stradivarius feciture, and was soon at work with chin and jaw.

Chapman, looking in for an after-supper pipe, was astonished at the poet's composure, and did not hesitate to say so. Keats smiled (in a way that was rather lovely).

"And why should I not fiddle," he asked, "while Byrne roams?"
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He's not to everyone's taste, I'll allow. Fans of James Joyce will love him, but those without much knowledge of literature or love of words will probably dislike him on sight. His writings contain many classical illusions, and can sometimes be impenetrable to someone who has no knowledge of the Irish, particularly Dubliners.

One of his admirers was S.J. Perelman, who called Myles "the best comic writer I can think of."

Safi was invited by an irresistible member, who was humorously named Kalleh. One day she strayed from the "clarify/elucidate" topic and feigned to have not to reply. Everyone was distressed, save Safi himself. He reached reflectively for his bass, a fairly passable timber of the Stratocaster Jazz Bass, and was soon at work with thumb and frets.

Arnie, looking in for an after-supper info-pop title, was astonished at the lax but groovy composure, and did not hesitate to say so. Safi smiled (in a way that was rather lovely).

"And why should I not slap" he asked, "while Kalleh slacks ?"

Safi

thank you for the links. i love the name myles, too.

q: what do you call a shy pilgrim?
a: myles standoffish.¨

When things go wrong and will not come right,
Though you do the best you can,
When life looks black as the hour of night-
A PINT OF PLAIN IS YOUR ONLY MAN.
When Money's tight and is hard to get
And your horse has also ran,
When all you have is a heap of debt--
A PINT OF PLAIN IS YOUR ONLY MAN.
When health is bad and your heart feels strange,
And your face is pale and wan,
When doctors say that you need a change,
A PINT OF PLAIN IS YOUR ONLY MAN
When food is scarce and your larder bare
And no rashers grease your pan,
When hunger grows as your meals are rare--
A PINT OF PLAIN IS YOUR ONLY MAN.
In time of trouble and lousy strife,
You have still got a darlint plan,
You still can turn to a brighter life-
A PINT OF PLAIN IS YOUR ONLY MAN.

- From At Swim Two Birds by Flann O'Brien

Thanks Arnie !

I feel I have heared here one the best Myles melody through this ... signed Flann O'Brien song, especially the chorus tune. I've plainly chosen it as the title of a new topic.

Read you soon over there !

Safi

Chapman once fell in love and had not been long plying his timid attentions when it was brought to his notice that he had a rival. This rival, a ferocious and burly character, surprised Chapman in the middle of a tender conversation with the lady and immediately challenged him to a duel, being, as he said, prohibited from breaking him into pieces there and then merely by the presence of the lady.

Chapman, who was no duelist, went home and explained what had happened to Keats.

'And I think he means business', he added. 'I fear it is a case of "pistols for two, coffee for one". Will you be my second?'

'Certainly', Keats said, 'and since you have the choice of weapons I think you should choose swords rather than pistols.'

Chapman agreed. The rendezvous was duly made and one morning at dawn Keats and Chapman drove in a cab to the dread spot. The poet had taken the 'coffee for one' remark rather too literally and hd brought along a small quantity of coffee, sugar, milk, a coffee-pot, a cup, saucer and spoon,together with a small stove and some paraffin.

After the usual formaities, Chapman and the rival fell to sword play. The two men fought fiercely, edging hither and tither about the sward. Keats, kneeling and priming the stove, was watching anxiously and saw that his friend was weakening. Suddenly, Chapman's guard fell and his opponent drew back to plunge his weapon home. Keats, with a lightning flick of his arm took up the stove and hurled it at the blade that was poised to kill! With such force and aim so deadly was the stove hurled that it smashed the blade in three places. Chapman was saved!

The affair ended in bloodless recriminations. Chapman was warm in his thanks to Keats.

'You saved my life', he said, 'by hurling the stove between our blades. You're tops!'

'Primus inter parries', Keats said.

Arnold is obviously telling a tall tale. The clue is that while the rest of the story bears the ring of truth, it is scarely credible that Keats would bring not tea, but coffee.

Naught-tea, Arnold?

"And why should I not slap" he asked, "while Kalleh slacks ?"

Safi, please elucidate???? How did I slack?

No, arnie, I have not read Myles na Gopaleen, but I do like James Joyce, so I will read it. Sounds fabulous!

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Sounds fabulous!

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Well, as I said above he's not to everyone's taste. I've mentioned him in the past to about half a dozen friends, and only two liked his stuff. The "Irishness" can be off-putting for those not used to it. If you like Joyce, though, you should enjoy Myles.

BTW, Hic et ubique, Chapman asked for coffee. Perhaps he didn't like tea?

>> Chapman asked for coffee. Perhaps he didn't like tea?

Precisely my point, arnie, which is what renders the entire story suspect: what proper Englishman would prefer coffee over tea?

But upon careful re-reading I see that it was the "ferocious and burly character" who planned to drink a post-duel coffee (Chapman not expecting to be sentient at that point) -- a detail which confirms his barbarity, to which we must cry out, "Shame! Shame!" On that basis your story is of course entirely credible (!), and I therefore withdraw my objection with my abject apology.

PS: Will you forgive me by agreeing that post Hic, ergo proper Hic?

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post Hic, ergo proper Hic

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Try drinking out of a glass of water while standing on your head.

One evening, Keats, working quietly at his books, was devastated by an inundation of Chapman. The poet's friend was distended with passion, inarticulate, a man driven mad by jealousy. When given a drink and pacified, he related the events which led to his condition. To a lady of the most ravishing beauty he had lost his heart; his sentiment was warmly reciprocated, and an early marriage was all that remained to perfect his bliss. Quite suddenly, however, a lout of an artist who specialised in ladies' portraits arrived upon the scene, begged to be permitted to paint the lady, and was granted this boon by the unthinking lover. His chagrin and rage may be guessed when it is revealed that the rascally artist forthwith laid siege to the lady's heart - with not inconsiderable results. After a time she ceased to be in when Chapman called with flowers; on two occasions she had been seen boating with this artist.

'I am beside myself', Chapman cried, beating his head, 'and so far as I can see only two courses are open to me. I must either take my razor and slit that wretched fellow's throat from ear to ear - that or terminate completely my association with this woman, break off utterly and irrevocably my association with her!"

Keats considered the problem in silence for a considerable time. Finally he spoke:

'If I were you,' he said, 'I'd cut the painter'.

I made a blunder ... Kalleh is hurted ... and I give up !

Remember : <<I wanted to play some bass lines waiting for Kalleh anwsers on Elucidate/Clarify topic. Looking in for an after-supper info-pop title, you was astonished Arnie, at the lax but groovy composure, and did not hesitate to say so. I smiled. "And why should I not slap" I asked, "while Kalleh slacks ?">>

I tried few solutions on my draft :
"Kalleh sleeps" (very small)
"Kalleh slaps" (in sense of slap my abject face, unbearable, but now ...)
"Kalleh slags off" (poor rhyme and unsuitable word)
"Kalleh slams" (she is not like this)
"Kalleh slangs" (NO ! No Kalleh !)
..
So, you know now what courteous verb I chose.

How to rhyme with "slap" with humour and courtesy, and to implore Kalleh to answer on Elucidate/Clarify topic ?

How Myles did conclude himself my plagiarism ? (if he forgave me). Please, don't answer "stop the bass Safi", you should kill me and I'm sure Myles should be more indulgent.

Safi

Erm...

"Safi strums while Kalleh bums?

No -- perhaps not.

"Safi plays the bass while Kalleh sits on her..."

Let's not go there.

'Tis okay, Safi. Read my private message. You were right; I did slack a bit. First, I was on a business trip from Aug 11-18, just the time when you were asking for me to look on Google for those citations. I had very little access to a computer there. Then, when you found them (it must have been a lot of work! Sorry!), I was overwhelmed with all your data regarding enigmas with elucidate and knew that I could no way top that. However, next time I intend to be the winner!

[This message was edited by Kalleh on Fri Aug 23rd, 2002 at 16:06.]

Keats and Chapman were discussing their ancestors. One of Keats’ had been Lord Major of Port Said.

Chapman, while he had no dislike of Germans as such, could not bear the thought of elderly grizzled Germans and did his best to banish them.
Keats: “Here is his picture, he was fifty when it was taken”

Chapman: “He looks very young for his years.”

“He hadn’t a grey Herr in his Said”, Keats replied.