I have indeed been nominated. This isn’t something that happens particularly often in the career of a jobbing poet. Obviously we draw a veil over the sad incident involving the Landlord of the Raging Bull. The magistrate was most supportive. He accepted my defence that I had left without paying for the wine, purely because I hadn’t realised the city still possessed anybody with the gall to charge for wine of that quality. Given that in the interests of justice he had tried a glass, I can only salute his dedication and courage in the service of the law.
Similarly we shall skip lightly past the sad case of the wanted poster. It was an oversight on my part, an error I would not have made had the scheme been concocted when I was sober.
Actually, I feel it was not a bad idea when you look at it dispassionately. It was supposed to bring me to the attention of potential patrons who were looking for somebody who would be able to help them with various matters of a cultural nature. The mention of lesser artists was perhaps provocative, although to be fair it is also true. But alas truth in and of itself is no longer enough.
The biggest mistake was the mention of a substantial reward. I was hauled into various watch houses by three different bounty hunters and four ‘concerned members of the public.’ All I can say is thank all the gods I never put ‘dead or alive’ on the poster as is apparently customary.
Also I refute entirely the charge of ‘outraging public decency.’ After all I was fully dressed and completely sober. The lady in question was alas neither. The problem was that the day was windy, very windy if I remember correctly. I had managed to get her into the wheelbarrow, thanks to the help I had received from six burly stevedores. I even found a piece of sacking which I managed to drape over her for decencies sake. Unfortunately the wind kept blowing the sacking off, and finally the last gust sent it tumbling down Ropewalk. So what was I supposed to do? Abandon a naked and defenceless lady in the street and pursue the sack? What if she’d sobered up enough to decide to walk on her own? (Actually crawl might have been within the limits of her abilities at that point, but I was speaking metaphorically.)
Again the magistrate was supportive. He dismissed the charges, stating that as I was in no way responsible for her condition I could not be held accountable for the state in which she was found.
On the other hand I felt he was a bit short sighted when he dismissed my claim for compensation for my time from the City, on the grounds I was acting for the public good.
Still, I have been nominated for Best Blogging /Writing Blog at the Annual Bloggers Bash Awards 2019!
Apparently the magistrates are not intending to take action.
Should you wish to read more of the anecdotes Tallis has told, you could well invest £0.99 in the following.
As one reviewer so wisely observed, “This is a collection of stories about Tallis which go to show that it’s not all drinking afternoon tea or partaking of soirees for a jobbing poet. We discover some of his early life, some of the society feuds he became entangle with, and the story of how he met his wife and acquired the boat on which they live. Great little tales!”