The story of Lambert Raspberry

Once upon a time, there was a young boy called Lambert Raspberry who lived in a big house with his parents, Colin and Colin. Colin, who was his mother, liked to weave tapestry all day whilst eating tapioca and tapping her toes. Colin, his father, enjoyed farting and often called the neighbours round to show off his musical skills using only the art of flatulence.

Lambert Raspberry was a lucky little boy because he was the proud owner of an invisible dog called Colin. Calling Colin’s name in the house led to some confusion sometimes because everyone in the house would come running. They would nearly always trip over the invisible dog and before you could say “Bakewell Tart”, there was tapioca and methane everywhere. Colin, Colin and Lambert would laugh like electrified clowns and Colin would bark like a chainsaw cutting into the trunk of a mighty oak until they had laughed themselves dry.

One day, Lambert and Colin (the dog) decided to go on an adventure and so packed a lunch of hard-boiled eggs, gooseberry chutney and lashings of ginger beer, not forgetting a tin of peaches for Colin, of course. As Lambert headed out of the door, with his packed lunch in a little plastic sandwich box which was made to promote the film Gigli, Colin and Colin spotted him and asked him where he was going. Lambert proudly announced that he was going on an adventure. Colin replied that it was all good and well going on an adventure, but said that Lambert really should put some clothes on first.

After dressing in a smart pair of dungarees, Lambert opened the front door, waved goodbye to Colin and Colin and made his way out into the big wide world. Unfortunately, Colin had never been outside before and ran straight out into the busy road where cars zipped up and down like the zipper on Warren Beatty’s trousers. Of course, the drivers of the cars couldn’t see Colin, because he was invisible, and Colin met his end underneath a second-hand Volvo driven by a man called Colin. Given his state of grief, Lambert didn’t find any consolation or amusement in the coincidence and ran back inside the house crying.

Unfortunately, in the few seconds that Lambert had been outside, his parents had taken the opportunity to move to Hawaii, using the money they had saved in the vain hope that Lambert would finally leave the house. Predictably, the new owners weren’t at all sympathetic to the crying boy who was hysterically muttering things about his dead invisible dog and at least four people all called Colin. They rang up the local loony bin who came to take Lambert away – and that’s where he remains to this day, which is actually, in fact, yesterday. Check your calendars.

The moral of this story is: don’t look for a moral in this story, because you won’t find one.

The End.

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About A.D.S.

You are reading the musings of a music-obsessed forty-something who was brought up on The Beatles, lived through Britpop and now spends his time in pursuit of the best music around. This 'blog gives me an outlet to write about the huge number of albums I buy and the many gigs I go to. All of the opinions expressed are my own and if you don't agree with me, then I understand - music is a very personal thing. I like to receive comments, especially if they're nice ones.
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