Maharaja Blues

Part 3 The Chapati Cataclysm of Cardiff : Bass-Laced Ballad in Anti-Griddle Time It began with a burp in the fabric of fate, A Son House riff slipped past the quantum gate. The Witch Panda’s brew, still bubbling with blues, Sent a glitch through time with improbable cues. Miku the Bear, in his lab of delight, Had built the Chapati Collider just right To fold flatbreads through wormholes with flair, And serve them hot in dimensions rare. But the glitch struck hard, with a syncopated bang, And the collider coughed out a nano particle gang. Zillions of anti chapatis burst forth in a flash, Each one programmed for a Cardiff curry clash. They zipped down City Road with a sizzling hiss, Seeking chapatis to neutralise in bliss. Curry houses trembled, naan fled in fear, As chutney shields melted and samosas disappeared. “It’s a culinary apocalypse!” cried a chef in despair, “The breads are unbaking right out of thin air!” Miku, majestic in his bass grooved coat, Heard the chaos and cleared his...

We gig in our bubbles, all glisten and glide,   Through valleys and venues where echoes reside.   A pick in the pocket, a mic in the mist,   We float past the border where memory twists. Each bubble’s a capsule of rhythm and sweat,   Of tray bakes half-eaten, of debts we forget.   We roll into Devauden, then bounce off to Bath,   A surreal procession down pub-lighted paths. No vans, no timetables—just buoyant intent,   Our posters like prayers on the breeze gently sent.   We shimmer through Cardiff, through Leek and the rain,   Each chorus a compass, each verse a refrain. The crowd sees us coming—a glint in the air,   A noir little miracle, barely quite there.   We land with a hush, then burst into sound,   A gig in a bubble, not touching the ground. Then off again, floating past hedgerow and moor,   A Cubist migration from gig to next door.   We li...

Yet another juicy anecdote from Maharaja Miku, the bard bear bass hack with perhaps a PhD in poetic non physics and a penchant for parathas, whose dreams of a starring role in CERN were dashed by hefty doses of reality, blasted bureaucracy and a suspicious allergy to neutrinos.  And thus was born his quest for revenge!! The Chapati Collider: A Tale of Spicy Vengeance  AKA, How Miku Flattened the Standard Model with a Rolling Pin Miku the Bard Bear, with a bass in his paw, Strode into CERN with a confident “Haw!” He sang of leptons in lyrical rhyme, And juggled dark matter with impeccable time. But the physicists frowned. “This bear is too bold. His bosons are half baked, his theories too old.” Rejected, dejected, he stormed from the hall Then tripped on a chapati and started to bawl. “Enough!” he declared, with a growl and a glare, “I’ll build my own lab with some flair. No sterile white walls, no Swiss protocol Just chutney, charisma, and a quantum soul!” He hammered and stir...