The Angry Exile: He what?

The Hangman

Into our town the Hangman came,
Smelling of gold and blood and flame.
And he paced our bricks with a diffident air,
And built his frame in the courthouse square.
The scaffold stood by the courthouse side,
Only as wide as the door was wide;
A frame as tall, or little more,
Than the capping sill of the courthouse door.
And we wondered, whenever we had the time,
Who the criminal, what the crime
That the Hangman judged with the yellow twist
of knotted hemp in his busy fist.
And innocent though we were, with dread,
We passed those eyes of buckshot lead --
Till one cried: "Hangman, who is he
For whom you raised the gallows-tree?"
Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
And he gave us a riddle instead of reply:
"He who serves me best," said he,
"Shall earn the rope of the gallows-tree."
And he stepped down, and laid his hand
On a man who came from another land.
And we breathed again, for another's grief
At the Hangman's hand was our relief
And the gallows-frame on the courthouse lawn
By tomorrow's sun would be struck and gone.
So we gave him way, and no one spoke,
Out of respect for his Hangman's cloak.
The next day's sun looked mildly down
On roof and street in our quiet town,
And stark and black in the morning air
Was the gallows-tree in the courthouse square.
And the Hangman stood at his usual stand
With the yellow hemp in his busy hand;
With his buckshot eye and his jaw like a pike
And his air so knowing and business-like.
And we cried, "Hangman, have you not done
Yesterday, with the foreign one?"
Then we fell silent, and stood amazed,
"Oh, not for him was the gallows raised."
He laughed a laugh as he looked at us:
"Did you think I'd gone to all this fuss
To hang one man? That's a thing I do
To stretch a rope when the rope is new."
Then one cried "Murder!" and one cried "Shame!"
And into our midst the Hangman came
To that man's place. "Do you hold," said he,
"with him that was meant for the gallows-tree?"
And he laid his hand on that one's arm.
And we shrank back in quick alarm!
And we gave him way, and no one spoke
Out of fear of his Hangman's cloak.
That night we saw with dread surprise
The Hangman's scaffold had grown in size.
Fed by the blood beneath the chute,
The gallows-tree had taken root;
Now as wide, or a little more,
Than the steps that led to the courthouse door,
As tall as the writing, or nearly as tall,
Halfway up on the courthouse wall.
The third he took -- we had all heard tell --
Was a usurer, and an infidel.
"What," said the Hangman "have you to do
With the gallows-bound, and he a Jew?"
And we cried out, "Is this one he
Who has served you well and faithfully?"
The Hangman smiled: "It's a clever scheme
to try the strength of the gallows-beam."
The fourth man's dark, accusing song
Had scratched our comfort hard and long;
"And what concern," he gave us back.
"Have you for the doomed -- the doomed and Black?"
The fifth. The sixth. And we cried again,
"Hangman, Hangman, is this the man?"
"It's a trick," he said. "that we hangmen know
For easing the trap when the trap springs slow."
And so we ceased, and asked no more,
As the Hangman tallied his bloody score.
And sun by sun, and night by night,
The gallows grew to monstrous height.
The wings of the scaffold opened wide
Till they covered the square from side to side;
And the monster cross-beam, looking down,
Cast its shadow across the town.
Then through the town the Hangman came,
Through the empty streets, and called my name --
And I looked at the gallows soaring tall,
And thought, "There is no one left at all
For hanging, and so he calls to me
To help pull down the gallows-tree."
So I went out with right good hope
To the Hangman's tree and the Hangman's rope.
He smiled at me as I came down
To the courthouse square through the silent town.
And supple and stretched in his busy hand
Was the yellow twist of the hempen strand.
And he whistled his tune as he tried the trap,
And it sprang down with a ready snap --
And then with a smile of awful command
He laid his hand upon my hand.
"You tricked me. Hangman!," I shouted then,
"That your scaffold was built for other men...
And I no henchman of yours," I cried,
"You lied to me, Hangman. Foully lied!"
Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
"Lied to you? Tricked you?" he said. "Not I.
For I answered straight and I told you true --
The scaffold was raised for none but you.
For who has served me more faithfully
Then you with your coward's hope?" said he,
"And where are the others who might have stood
Side by your side in the common good?"
"Dead," I whispered. And amiably
"Murdered," the Hangman corrected me:
"First the foreigner, then the Jew...
I did no more than you let me do."
Beneath the beam that blocked the sky
None had stood so alone as I.
The Hangman noosed me, and no voice there
Cried "Stop!" for me in the empty square.

Maurice Ogden

Friday, 8 January 2010

He what?

A man who went to casualty with his penis stuck in a steel pipe had to be cut free by firefighters using a metal grinder.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh.

Medics at Southampton General Hospital could not get the man's penis out of the stainless steel pipe because the restricted blood flow had caused it to become aroused.

Oh, I didn't need to know that. That's it, my brain has just shut down.

Not for long.

The firefighters used the four-and-a-half-inch grinder to cut the pipe from around the man's penis and it took about 30 minutes.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh.

The anxious man aged about 40 gave hospital staff no explanation about how the pipe got stuck after he turned up on Tuesday morning.

Wait, what? Did they need someone to draw them a picture?

Actually I'm quite glad nobody did draw a picture in case they put it in with the article.

8 comments:

JuliaM said...: 'Aroused'..? Did they mean 'engorged'?

Because surely if not aroused in the first place, how'd he get it in the pipe?

Don't these people have English degrees? ;); 8 January 2010 at 19:07
Angry Exile said...: Because surely if not aroused in the first place, how'd he get it in the pipe?

Might explain more why than how. And if not then that wouldn't have stopped him getting it in but also should have meant no trouble getting it off agai.....

.... you know what? It is possible to over analyse things.; 8 January 2010 at 19:45
The Filthy Engineer said...: I've just spat coffee all over my keyboard!; 8 January 2010 at 20:12
microdave said...: Stainless steel is bastard stuff to work with. And using a grinder on metal quickly heats it up...

And no, I didn't find that out trying to cut a bit of pipe off my knob....; 9 January 2010 at 06:30
Angry Exile said...: Filthy Engineer, apologies. JuliaM's cost me more than one keyboard. :-)

microdave, what are you saying, he should use a copper pipe next time? Actually that, er, raises another question: gentlemen, could you continue to stand to attention if someone was heading towards your joy department with a fucking angle grinder? I'd have thought just the sight of the thing starting up would have solved the problem in seconds unless...

... unless the guy enjoyed that too?

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh.; 9 January 2010 at 08:29
microdave said...: Copper conducts heat better than stainless, so he would get a nice "all over" warming sensation, instead of localised burning.

But it would be much easier to cut copper off with a pair of tin snips.

These are purely observations, you understand.

Somehow I think I'm going to regret contributing to this thread.....; 9 January 2010 at 10:07
Angry Exile said...: Somehow I think I'm going to regret contributing to this thread.....

You think? If you don't regret it already there's something wrong. :-); 9 January 2010 at 10:19
Rob F said...: 'Clunk click every trip, shove some grease on your dick'.

If he'd remembered that wise old saying, then he would never have been caught in that embarrassing situation.

Right, I'm off to shag a park bench. Now where'd I put that WD40...; 9 January 2010 at 10:40