The Old Masters – re-interpreted 176

Greetings once again all those with a bent for re-interpreting Ye Masters of Olde; we who with a stroke of an irreverent caption, attempt to undo what those yester-painters did with a thousand strokes of a brush.

You’re quite safe today because we don’t know who was responsible for this work, except that it happened in France round about 1473

Royal 16 G.VIII, f.32

Look your holiness, it’s hard enough coming in here at a moments notice to take Her Maj’s mind off things with gags and japes without them two rabbiting on about whether they’ll be paid by her medical insurance.

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The Old Masters – re-interpreted 175

If it’s not anarchy in Africa, mischief in the Middle East or buffoonery from the Brexit bunch, it’s utter absurdity from the Americans. This week the world’s news wires have been abuzz with reports of devilry and shenanigans and it’s high time we joined in.

So limber up, there’s a good chap. Don’t want any pulled muscles do we. Today’s victims is none other than Giovanni Francesco Barbieri inexplicably known as Guercino.


I say, William. You don’t think perhaps you’d like to try shooting the apple by itself first do you; you know, sort of get the hang of it first?

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The Old Masters – re-interpreted 174

Hail visitor well met, and all that. We in the New version of Zealand have been experiencing a rare and disconcerting climatological phenomenon. An intense light has been brightening the heavens and meteorologists have been consulting older meteorologists to draw from their experiences from years gone by. There have been wild claims that it is the sun peeking through the clouds – but these have been dismissed as fanciful third force conspiracies.

Fortunately, we reputation slashers don’t concern ourselves with such trivialities and we just get on with the task at hand.


The folly of using questionable methods to improve one’s marks before confirming the examiner’s sexual preferences. Fortunately, while he was indifferent to Claudine’s allargando in the middle – the examiner did acknowledge her fine cantatas.

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The Old Masters – re-interpreted 173

Hands up all those who know what day it is. Absolutely correct. Another Wednesday is upon us; and as we all know, it is time to unsheathe our wit to wither the noble reputations of the Old Masters.

When the supercomputer here at the Institute brought up the Spanish painter, Eduardo Leon Garrido, none of us expected the Spanish ink-wiz-ishn’t it appalling how Monty Python creeps into almost everywhere……. But he is here now so we might as well make the best of it.


Rodney was always popular with the high society maidens They adored his Hokey – admired his Pokey and fairly swooned when he shook it all about.

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The Old Masters – re-interpreted 172

Gosh chaps! It’s skin of teeth time again as we submit a post just before the Antipodes welcomes in another Thursday. As most of you know, it’s time to re-interpret an Old Master with an irreverent caption.

This week’s victim is Jakob Jordaens, a bloke who was sloshing paint about in the 1600s. I shall avoid…um…. asinine puns like, “this image represents the ‘end’ of his career, in favour of an equally base caption.

For some inexplicable reason these famous lyrics spring to mind:

Heaven, I’m in Heaven,
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak;
And I seem to find the happiness I seek
When we’re out together dancing, cheek to cheek.


HIS MASTER’S VOICE: “Right lads! Once more from the top. If you don’t know the words, just hum.”

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The Old Masters – re-interpreted 171

‘Allo, ‘allo! Bonjour mes ami! Ah herp zis blerg post finds vous all feeling tres bon.

You will be relieved to learn that the rest of the post doesn’t have to be read in an appalling French accent. It is not often that I have de Gaulle to share a passage (thank you Allison) of such concentrated punnage that it can make the eyes water at 50 paces. However, I defy you to read the thief’s response without a French accent.


A thief in Paris planned to steal some paintings from the Louvre.

After careful planning, he got past security, stole the paintings and made it safely to his van. However, he was captured only two blocks away when his van ran out of petrol.

When asked how he could mastermind such a crime and then make such an obvious error, he replied, “Monsieur, zat is the reason I stole ze paintings. Ah had no Monet to buy Degas to make ze Van Gogh.And now I ‘ave Toulouse my freedom.“……………

Right, onward and upward. In the Gallic spirit of today’s post, we’ve got Jean-Francois Millet taking one for the team.


ONE THURSDAY AFTERNOON ON THE JIHADI PRACTICE RANGE: “Honestly Fatima, I don’t know why they bother burying them. There isn’t even enough of Ahmet to put in a match box let alone a coffin.


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The Old Masters – re-interpreted 170

I don’t know about you lot; but officially, Spring might have sprunged and the grass might have rizzed, but it’s still pretty nippy around those parts that a good curry ought to reach. Therefore, I think a handy, helpful, homespun hint might add some value to this site (that the previous attempt at alliteration removed – Mrs Chips). So, here’s how to maintain body heat when those about you are shivering their timbers….

Stand with your getaway sticks (thank you Badger) approximately shoulder-width apart. With one hand on your Egginbacon toasty, rotate the other arm as if you were doing windmill impressions. Now rotate the first arm in the opposite direction – allowing the centrifugal force to keep you upright, and the contents of the toasty to spread onto fellow commuters. This simple exercise will keep you warm, attract females of the opposite sex and prevent injury as you pummel the reputation of an Old Master.


I don’t care how unfair you think life is Cedric. If your desktop is broken, you’ll just have to look stuff up in books like we had to.

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