And Now for Something Completely Different
(A recent e-mail correspondence from the Jagnuts forum)

With apologies to Bill Shakespeare on this somewhat new interpretation of his work ...

To Tea or not to Tea
That is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of the outrageous cost of coffee at Starbucks,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
by NOT going to Chris’s beanery each Sunday
And, by opposing, end them.

To die, to sleep
No more  – and by a sleep to say we end
our car’s annual ritual winter hibernation and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to – ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished!

To die, to sleep
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep, what dreams may come (of a newly restored roadster),
When we have shuffled off this mortal ignition coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of owning a British car our life.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of owning that British car,
Th’ compressor's wrong, the proud man's newly found humility,
The pangs of inexplicable shipwright’s disease, the tow truck’s delay,
The insolence of the officer, and the spurns
That patient merit th’ unworthy Italian car owner’s take,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?

[now THERE’s a picture I can’t get out of my mind!]

Who would fardels bear [what’s a fardel?],
To grunt and sweat under an oily pipe,
But that the dread of something after coffee,
The undiscovered electrical fault from whose burn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others' electrical faults that we know not of?

Thus conscience [or rather common sense] does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought of that latest repair bill,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their shock absorbers turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy E-Type
Be all my sins remembered


OK now class, what IS the question.  And more importantly, WHAT is the answer?

--- Bob

the answer (you're not going to like it) ...

is ...


(Quoteing from that other giant of English literature, Douglas Adams)

--- Scott

Julius Caesar, Act One:

"We come to see Caesar, and rejoice in his Triumph"

I expect Bill was a TR man...

--- Ray

Yeah, though the number be not 42, it is, persuth, and moreover less a fardel's doubt be encompassed,
without, an answer that may taketh pride of place in our roll of honourable answereths.
Nor, may one's own heart embraceth the less common but equally just answer "number 9, number 9, number 9 ..."
as was forsuth portrayed not so ineloquently by the late bard Lennon,
for in whose prose we did so rejoice some 2 score long years past.

--- Bob


I think you need to apologize to more than Shakespeare for that one!

--- Jerry

Perhaps Robert, thy nectar of warm infusion be not of the common tree of tea,
but more persuaded by that righteous nettle of gold and green.
Albeit, this herbaceous muse, hemp, be renowned for its incendiary release of delight,
resulting in vibrant prose,
Tis of equal savvy in its proneness to produce a tempest in thy teapot
when immersed in aqueous warmth in the err of confusion.

--- Glen

Spring has sprung and the fancy of many a J'nut has turned to .......
Shakespeare and Lennon??? It's been a long winter, perhaps too long for some.

..............and Sir Lyons spirit, ranging for the drive,
With Walmsley by his side (car) come hot from Coventry,
shall from these confines (of winter)
with a monarch's voice Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the cats of spring;

..................now you've got me doing it!

Tea as it should be..... 1 lump or 2?

--- Ken