Sombre Hombres.

“Even when it’s bad, it’s better than when it’s good.” - Sombre Hombres.


Joseph Ouseph and I forged a good partnership.

He was the funniest man I had ever met, and together we laughed very often.


Sombre Hombres was a comedic creation from our collective brainpower.

The loose idea, designed for book or televisual sitcom, was entirely based on our own faults and insecurities, as our ‘facespace’ social networking profile indicates:



“The good old days are gone. That's why they're good - because they're gone." - Loudon Wainwright III.

"Some suggest that the term 'sombrehombres' is an old nautical refrain meaning 'he who laughs and fun'. Others believe that it was coined by the Persians, who would shout this out when alone.

Both is a nonsense.

'Sombre Hombres' really means nothing at all, and yet everything at once.

It is reserved for disheartened companions, hardened souls beleaguered by the frustrations of the universe, who seek comfort in observing the behaviour of others. It is most plausible that you are thinking "do they understand 'joy' and 'kindness'"? Well perhaps one day you could ask them...

Our meeting was both fortuitous and deeply distressing. In fact many has been the time when we had wished this whole ridiculous and painful farce had never been set in motion. 'What are we trying to accomplish?', one might ask; or equally 'Why do you dress that way?'.

These are questions that are valid and yet also profoundly annoying.

To paraphrase Rousseau, man is born free but everywhere he is in chains.

Sombre Hombres exists because of and for these chains. We will provide no answers, no solutions, and little hope to those who seek such things".




Echoing real life, to an extent, the two principal characters shared a mutual fondness for ale, Boules, walking, sitting down, talking, not talking, not walking, park benches, luncheon, music, humour, shoes and Boules.


Boules is the sport of Kings.

If Sport is fashion, then Boules is ‘the little black number’.

If Boules is a race horse, it would be ‘Red Rum’.



Although, Boules is not dead.

It is vibrant.

Like Tabasco sauce.



Here is one Sombre Hombres account of a ‘real life’ Boules tournament:


"The 2nd round of the ‘Pocket Kath Memorial Trophy’ kicked off yesterday amidst chaotic and demented scenes at the Yeovil Aerodrome.

Following the withdrawal of 8-time champion Chastity Darling (shingles) and Intercontinental champion Chiswick Park (metartarsal), the event certainly seemed to lack enough pulling power to guarantee a good attendance, and soon descended into heightened confusion, before inevitable bedlam.

In happenings reminiscent of last year's debacle at the ‘Corby Masters’, Wearside's Tam 'Coughing Buck' Buchanan unwisely renewed his war of words with IBC Secretary, Cahill Morgue - a scuffle ensued and Morgue received a slap to the balls.

With Buchanan disqualified for mal-handage, the afternoon then turned sour for rookie Ahmed Loe, who was fined for setting his alsatian dog “Cupid” onto fellow participant Dr Miguel Umgh.

Play was suspended indefinitely, as staff strained to prevent the looting of local off- licenses by supporters and their parents.”




Sometime, somewhere, somehow it would be nice to live close enough to each other so that we put our rubbish out on the same day again, but I think that that train has probably left the building.

The fat lady has flown and the bird has sung.



Or has it?