Hi my name is Figg, Mrs Figg.

You realise, don't you, that you make very little sense, Petty.

Btw you'll be pleased to know that The Archet Bugle has finally released an accurate, factual account of that coal scuttle business --- or so Odo informs me.

This coal scuttle has been alluded to before, in Bree, and being polite I didnt like to push the issue further. I'm thinking coal scuttles are useful objects, and many is the time i'll find my Tiddles hiding inside mine. like a naughty pussy cat she is.

All the facts you need to know Mrs Figg (yes Odo, facts!) is that the coal scuttle is magical and it belonged to a McTyrant of yore. But it was stolen one snowy winters day by a McBanks who then emigrated with it to Ozhobbistan. (Well I say emigrated but back in those days you only got sent to Ozhobbitland if you were lacking in respectability or couldn't hold your buckie- which is the same thing). The McTyrants nearly died in that winters cold, saved only by Grandads emergency, and not to savoury, buckie stash and we have never forgiven the McBanks clan for it. And there has been a feud ever since.
Odo still has the scuttle today- but it will one day be returned to its rightful Scothobbitland home.

there was an old scuttle of yore
that misteriously went out the door
that an ozzhobbit took it
and some said mistook it
for rubbish LOTR merchandise
boom boom.

False allegations against a Banks!

The mere mention of the LotR movie in the same limerick as a Banks! !

Mrs Figg, while my brother Wisey might approve of just about anything , so long as it's of the channellin' variety, I don't - especially scurrilous stuff like that which you have channelled....

And there was me thinking you might be the first person out of Bree in a long time, who maybe weren't a touch on the unrespectful side. How wrong can one be? How wrong!

As to you, Mr Tyrant, as it happens, I have found another version of the Coal Scuttle Tale. The GENUINELY TRUE ONE (though it may take a few minutes to comp... to copy out for publication by the Bugle.)

Oh Mrs Figg!
Oh Mrs Figg!
Grandly do I
doff my lid,
As I sit and puff a cig
while airing
(on a chair)
my wig,
If I ever die
you'll surely get the gig
of channelin'
yes,
it's you I dig!

Channelled from the wellspring of my poetic nature - if I had one, Wisey Banks

Your arrival has certainly stirred up some of the natives, Mrs Figg.

Wisey old chum
what have you done?
porgy will be mad
I'm thinkin a tad
she'll come over an stiff me
might even biff me
she might even stick summat
where the sun aint shiny
so give it a miss
or yer missis will hiss
and i'll be sad
tralalalala.

Got to wake em all up, thems sleepin

"Channellin'is a Higher Art,
Stronger than a mere cetificart
of marriage - Sorry Porgy,
Mrs Figg makes you seem tawdry! -

Oh chanellin' beckons
on the deepest levels,
In joyous word
it surely revels,

So if my heart is
gently swooning,
You'll need to adjust, Porg,
for my heartstring's are tuning

to a different note
it can't be helped -
What can I do
when True Love breaks out!"

From "Romantic Words Never Written but Ought Have Been" by Keats (only in a dream).

Wisey Banks

Hello Mrs. Figgs!!! I am Her Majesty Queen of Forumshire, and on the occasion of a new member already aquainted with the glorious Buckie, I shall throw a Buckie party!!! (So long as NO ONE tells Beren...)

Good ole Queen Tin. I never have a bad thing to say abour our monarchy, nope never. Queen of Buckie!

Be careful, Mrs Figg. From what I've seen go on here, it might be best not to encourage Orwell, as I fear he will make all sorts of unwanted advances now. He always appears to respond in a most troubling way to any hint of affection. You might seek Kafria's advice here. I see he has been hectoring her in a most unbecoming manner for ever so long. (Ignoring him seems to be her, only too wise, policy nowadays ).

To put it in plain speaking Mrs Figg, he's like a rat up a drain pipe is Orwell! (except if his attempts with Kafria are anything to go by he's more like a rat who can't quite make it up, if you follow my meaning )

I'm a great lover out of form, that's all. You take it back, Petty!

When exactly were you in form Orwell?

DREAMING OF MRS FIGG

In Autumn dreams
I'm drifting
not far away from
russet leaves
and would you believe
my thoughts are full
of Mrs Figg ---

oh i am a ship
close enough to the shore
to see the middle of Tuscany
with it's flowering olive trees
and villa
with all unsightly
powerlines removed

e'en her hair speaks to me
softly
not like olive twigs
beginning to disrobe
but like that troll purse
in the troll fells
surely alive
and sentient
never smelling
anything but like
crepes
sweet with New Zealand honey
and never saying things
as vulgar as
"Oi!"

on my wicker chair
i'm drifting
my wicker chair is a sea 'tis!
and me
I be a humble mind-ship -
with Porgy placed
way back,
in the bilges, e'en -
while a'channellin'
in Autumn bliss
I go

By an Anonymous Smitten Poet and channelled by

Wisey Banks.

well I love my pussies more than any gentlemen callers

I have 3. (pussies that is...not gentlemen callers )

oh Wisey Wisey
If only I knew,
if your words
are a bit sarky
or if they are true.

and as for the power lines
I think you will find,
my photoshop is rubbish
they are still there behind.