Nobody calls me chicken



As you know, it is the duty of each of us in these troubled times to shop until we bleed - and to do so locally whenever possible. So we were wracked with guilt as we drove to Cornwall before Christmas, without having looked for last-minute gifts in SE4.

Happily though, our main present on Christmas Day was a large wobbly wooden chicken, made by Manor Avenue artist Jeff Soan, which we first fell in love with during the summer's Open Studios (we never wanted Fallout3 anyway...)

Suggestions for a name would be welcome.

15 comments:

betamatt said...

Morley?

Anonymous said...

like it, like it...

How about Mungbean?

Richard said...

A friend keeps chickens in her garden near Forest Hill and they've recently started laying.

Foxes don't trouble them when they roam free in the day, apparently.

Tyrwhitt Michael said...

Lickin'?

Monkeyboy said...

You'll not find two people who agree about what constitutes good art, but everyone likes chicken.

The Cat Man said...

Maybe this is what chickens actually look like and everything we have been told by the supermarkets has been some sort of big conspiracy....

Tamsin said...

Bertha.
For no reason that I know of in my conscious mind.
If she gets a husband he is to be Bertie Rooster (like the shop down Brockley Rise).
My cousin in Cornwall has hens loose around her farmyard - those that are stupid enough not to roost high up just get weaned out of the gene pool.

jon s said...

Pumblechook...

Beecrofter said...

Chuffer.....as in Ch for Chicken

Brockley Kate said...

Surely it's got to be Hugh?

betamatt said...

I wasn't sure where to put this...

There was an article in last Sunday's Observer about the literary lanscape that mentioned Brockley. Blake Morrison's last novel, South of the River, is apparently set here.
Has anybody read it?

From the article:

"I suppose I did feel south London was less written about," Morrison says. "Most parts of it are not on the tube map or the literary map." He lives in Blackheath and describes friends from north London arriving at his door "sweating and angry - as if they had crossed continents". When he talks about north London it is in the past tense: "It was where it was at in the 90s - the media, Blair, Granita." His novel is set in Brockley, behind Lewisham and Peckham. "It is not a place people know about. I felt that it was uncelebrated." He acknowledges that there was an "imaginative freedom" in setting a novel there, that it was an unclaustrophobic choice. At a south London all-blokes bookclub, South of the River was read with territorial interest. "Would they have read a book called 'North of the River'?" Morrison wonders. It is his belief that people feel a "strange gratitude", that they are "validated" when they are put on the map through fiction.

State the obvious said...

I don't suppose it's true but a little bird (possibly a chicken) told me that Hugh's surname is Jarse.

Old Benny Hill joke but still a good one in my humble opinion.

Armpit Vale said...

Betamatt, I put a little piece about it at the end of "Suggest a Topic"

We need "Recent comments" back! (and a forum of course)

Headhunter said...

That Hugh Jarse joke was posted here many months ago. Bit slow to the punch there...

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