Les Bas Bleus, The Bluestocking...

[ErrolTheDragon]

En franglais, in English .... open to all women for company, fun and fabulous artworks. Leave unwanted reality in the porch and come along in.

I've just gone outside to check the goat situation.

I hope no one is planning on driving home tonight as all the cars are blocked in by Quokkas (who mistakenly asked the gerbils to write the signs and design the t shirts)

But on a different note, please adjourn to the Staunch Ally where I'm sure the guys on this thread should hang out, and raise a glass to them

'I'd never been so proud to live on Terf Island'. www.mumsnet.com/Talk/womens_rights/5173135-id-never-been-so-proud-to-live-on-terf-island

😶

Turns out the quacken are quite good at pulling a pint!

Once, many eons ago, there lived a fabulous creature that would become known as the Quacken. That wasn't its real name, of course - no one could pronounce that. Despite its fierce appearance, it lived entirely upon a plant based diet. The limpid emerald waters of its pool provided many tiny plants and algae. It was contented, until one day, a rich and foolish man attending a stag party at the palace thought it would be fun to provoke it. Come on mateys, he cried. Let's get the Quacken a-quackin'!

The Quacken was very upset by these humans shouting at it, making obscene gestures, shooting arrows, firing shotguns and spitting. It pecked off all their heads with one mighty peck. Their blood sullied its pool. It was time to flee.

After a long and exhausting flight of 17 hours, the quacken landed in a fetid swamp overrun with maggots, where it was quickly enslaved by a strange duck-billed creature that called it Sonny.

The Quacken soon tired of living in the swamp. It flapped away on its powerful wings to a gentler land, a place where bluestockings thrived in their own pub, a place where feminists frowned and frolicked with goats and Quokkas and dear little gerbils that served up sparp sandwiches, fried eggs and chips, and really good beer, hot tea and tunnocks tea cakes.

But the Quacken soon became quarrelsome. It drank too much beer and ate too many sparp sandwiches. It started singing at the wrong time and interrupting in pedantry corner. It couldn't remember where the toilet was. It was lonely, despite all the marvellous women with their boisterous talk and erudite discussions. It couldn't understand the Quokkas most of the time. It disliked the goats and ignored the gerbils, who were very put out by its rudeness.

One terrible afternoon, it nearly destroyed the quokka population inside the bluestocking pub. It had an argument about how hot the tea should be, and whether the milk should go in before or after the tea was poured.

After that day, the quacken realised it must go and be with its own kind, if it could find any.

A farewell photograph was taken, many tunnocks teacakes were eaten, and black tea in case of a resurgence of the quibble about the milk. Then the Quacken flew away, promising to return one day. The Quokkas waved goodbye and instantly forgot who the quacken was. The gerbils cheered up no end, and had a little party in the kitchen. As for the women, they gathered around the piano and sang a rousing song or two before returning to their intellectual pursuits and their lounging. And the unreality in the Bluestocking pub was restored and renewed.

And the unreality in the Bluestocking pub was restored and renewed.

Thank goodness for that. Teas up!

@inkymoose oh bravo!

That was such a lovely fairy tale that I fell asleep again

Thank you @inkymoose for a great way to start the day 💕

Brilliant!

I wonder where it is now? 👀

I hear it has a liking for cake. Have you checked it's not hiding in your shed waiting to pounce when you go to put the bins out?

If it's made a connection with the other thread, somewhere on the Fylde coast, 'Blackpool' sounds like a quacken habitat.

Well, good news, it's not in the shed

@inkymoose for the Nobel Prize for Literature! Or Zoology. Or something.

Why have you turned into a dragon? Does Errol know?

This place is getting SO confusing.

😂

I was imagining that Cake was a cake in the shape of a rights hoarding dinosaur yesterday!

That makes a lot more sense.

'1 sparp will pay the quokka's wagars..' ? So they've been wasting their money on gambling, have they? Huh. No sparps from me. Only lambs should gambol, and even they get fleeced😂

Thank you for the lovely story Inkymoose, and for the very welcome picture of the duckie-wuckie and goat-woatie and the miniature Quokka-wokka having a friendly cuppa-wuppa together.

'What do we want?'
'Unbearably cute tweeness!'
'When do we want it?'
'When the big hand is at the five and the ickle hand is just past the top'

I just can't handle the maggots and the flesh-eating..whatever they ares😱
Maybe, just maybe, if the maggots were wearing little knitted jumpers they wouldn't be so bad..?? That's a lot of knitting, I admit...
😄

Your wish is AI's command. And surprisingly, it did what you asked. Unbearably cute tweeness coming right up.

Talking of knitted things, this is doing the rounds...

I love that meme, @ifIwerenotanandroid.

There is another one, which I will dig out later, that is supposed to be the shield and motto of the Ankh Morpork (Terry Pratchett) Guild of Knitters and Yarncrafters. The motto in Latin is "Favete linguis - ego numero", which translates to "Be quiet, I'm counting!"