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Viggo Mortenson: poet, lover, quiche eater

6 Mar

Viggo likes to be one with the natural world.

Viggo Mortenson, star of Stubbly Elf-botherer, Naked Man at the Russian Bath, Ex-Mobster Shoots Man in Diner, and more, has ‘come out’ as a writer of poetry.
“The prospect of having someone of Viggo’s profile as an ambassador for our art-form is very heartening,” said Rodney Blatchweaver‘s mum Muriel. “Now maybe more people will take Rodney seriously.”
With poems like Ennui* it seems that Viggo is set to take the arts world by storm.


Stare into the mirror
Who am I?
Diner Guy?
An Elf lover?
A naked wrestler?
These questions haunt me
As I stare into my beautiful eyes
And run my hands through my
Thick, lustrous hair –

“If there was an Oscar for poetry, Viggo should get one. Now, when I tell people I’m a poet, they no longer laugh in my face. Thank you Viggo!” said Rachel Bucktoof.

We asked Poet Laureate Inigo Yelp to comment on Viggo’s longterm influence on the form.

IY:    Who is he?
Q:    . …! A world-famous movie star.
IY:   What’s he been in?
(We explain)
IY:   Naked wrestling, eh? I’ll have to take a look at that. What was the question?
(We explain)
IY:  You should be writing about Rodney Blatchweaver. That young up-and-comer is making waves in this town. He’s going to put poetry on the map. What was the question?
Q:      ……..?!
(We explain)
IY:   Hmm that’s a tough one. What’s his work like?
Q:     Powerfully understated and tinged with a melancholic awareness of man’s fleeting mortality.
IY:  Give us one then.

Q:   (Reciting from Viggo’s book Blasphemy of the Soul🙂


Why must I lie?
I should be in nature
One with the sparrows
Instead of pretending to kick
Some guy’s ass nine ways to Sunday
Pretending to psycho-analyse beautiful women
Pretending to not be upset when I don’t get nominated.
Irony cuts deep
Like that time I went fishing.
The honest trout
Has no silver tongue
His scales help him to swim faster
Not get women to sleep with him.
He. Is. No. Liar.

(A long silence ensues)
Q:    I’m probably not putting the depth of feeling into it that Viggo does.

(The silence continues)

IY:  I’m speechless.


The Oscar Speech Meryl Streep never gave

1 Mar
Celebrity audience at the Oscars

The celebrity audience has mixed reaction to Noni flashing her breasts

In a bizarre Oscars speech, actress Noni Gibberwelt, despite insisting that she is not bitter, cleared the decks of her former life as a cocktail waitress.
Now an Oscar-winning screenwriter and actress, Noni’s acceptance of her award was unusually caustic.

“There was a time when I might have said, “Hah!” All you bad tippers, you late night booty-callers who never answered the phone when I needed you. I’m talking about you Ray Vaudvilke. No, I’ve been brushed with the loofah of success…

(Kisses statuette)

…and I shake you off like flaky skin calluses. I might have said, “Pah!” to you Robbie Blitzkin. Back in high school, I bet you never thought I’d grow into this bod or have such great hair! And you, Falco Ripwheedler, who told me my poems were average and overtly melancholic, so you couldn’t possibly publish them. Do you see the Oscar I’m holding?! No? Oh, right, you’re in your mouldy old bedsit back in Blighty. And what about you, Prof. Junkweilder? If I was still bitter about getting a C- on all of my papers after I wouldn’t let you fondle my breasts …Yup.

(Flashes breasts)

These puppies – savour it. Oh wait, that’s the closest you’ll ever get. To any woman. And then there’s you, Milton Moovil. Ah, Milton. You’re so lucky that I can now afford the best therapy money can buy. I’ve learnt to look past the years of drudgery when I stifled my own talent in order to work three jobs to support your career as an “interpretive dancer.”

By sleeping with that little slut from RADA you set me free to become the (let’s be honest) MASSIVE success that I am now. If I was bitter. But I’m not. So I dedicate this award to all the wankers from my past. Grist, mill, water under the gold-plated bridge.”

Then, as the audience sat in stunned silence, the actress moon-walked off stage.

Poetry: Page vs. Stage divide – “sorted”

6 Feb

The pen definitely hurts less than the sword when stuck up the nose: Say Da Word and Richstein Larusso

Spoken Word artist Say Da Word recently battled head to head with ‘normal’ poet Richstein Larusso in a debate upon which the future of poetry depends. The debate was staged by Sprinklelips Poetry at the Crusty Undercarriage Bar in Hoxton.

SDW: Word.

RL: Hello.

SDW: The word speaks, the world listens.

RL: Okay, we’ve started. Have we started? I’ve brought my notebook.

SDW: My mother says the lyrics don’t own me/ I spit rhymes and I hang with my homies/ all the people in the back say yee-ah!

RL: Okay. I thought this was going to be more of a structured debate… I don’t really see the difference between what you’re doing and bad rap.

SDW: Oh no you di-unt! If you gots da words then lets you be herd (yes I do mean ‘herd’ like a nerd or a group of cows…) Yo!

RL: That doesn’t even rhyme? (Takes out thick notebook, drops several papers on the floor. Crowd becomes restless.) Anyway. Here is my new opus: ‘I dream of Felt droppings’

I dream of Felt droppings

I like how they roll

Dust bunny protocol.

Ring a ding ding

How I wanted to sing

But my mouth was stuffed with cotton.

SDW: Actually, that’s quite good.

RL: Thanks. Hey, didn’t we go to Eton together?

Bozzel: I think you’ll all agree that both sides argued convincingly. The winner is: POETRY!

(Crowd clicks their fingers energetically)

Poet Rodney Blatchweaver on street sweepers and prostitutes

23 Jan
beat poet

Tortured recluse

We spoke to poet Rodney Blatchweaver, a writer who describes himself as “leading the tortured existence of a recluse who unfortunately is too popular to enjoy a sheltered life.”

Q: Tell us what drives you as an artist.

RB: I love that question.

Q: (After a minute or two) is that your answer?

RB: Is that your question?

Q: Is THAT your answer?

RB: That’s up to you.

Q: Thank you.

RB: Don’t mention it. The point is not to apply your own meanings to your work, after all, poetry is subjective and meaningless beyond what the reader applies. I often ask street sweepers and prostitutes to read my work so that they can reveal to me what the true meaning of the piece is.

Q: Have you ever performed your work?

RB: No, I’m rubbish at reading.

Q: What did your new work Barracuda Phosphorous* mean?

*Barracuda phosphorous

Jim jam baloney

Tastes like that new flavour of marmite

RB: According to bricklayer Tom Ludd it was, (making quote marks) “shit.”

Q: How do you respond to that?

RB: He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Rodney’s numerous publications include Bravo the Heimlich manoeuvre, Eyebrow Catastrophe, Holding Only One Ball, Things I Imagined while Sleeping with You.