Yes, that means you.
This is the most important page on the web.
Slan,
D.
D., For dedication to Dylanism above and beyond the call of duty, you are herewith awarded this:
Well, silly me-- you probably already have one.
Cool! It’s been bookmarked…thanks, Dub!
Dub, you Dylan freak. How does it feel?
PBS has a Dylan biography on produced by Martin Scorsese. Naturally, I forgot it was on till I hit this thread. :roll:
djm
This is the most important page on the web.
. . . and to think I had gotten along so long without it.
Dylan who? Dylan Thomas? 
whoever he was…
Growing up in Duluth Minnesota (USA), Bob Dylan was (and is still) a household name. I had the fortune to have his aunt Millie for English Composition in High School. I looked forward to that class as she would regularly talk about little Robbie’s boyhood exploits.
She told us the story of his first album, when he brought it home to show his folks and family, he put it on the phonograph and his father remarked that Robert would go nowhere with that awful sounding music… thank goodness for the fact that our parents can often be wrong about our futures. 
Thanks for the link Dubh! 
and one for all the wannabes.
Just Like Bob Dylan
by Beveridge
Don’t you feel any shame?
You’re up there playing Dylan songs again
Wearing scabby clothes
Singing through your nose
Not quite sure how any lyric goes
Harmonica clamped to your jaw
You’re impolite, just like Bob Dylan (yes you are)
And you’re right-handed, just like Bob Dylan (yes you are)
And you’re trite, just like Bob Dylan
But you’re shite just like Andrea Corr
Nobody claps but your friends
When your harp solo finally ends
The harmonica’s in D
Y’all play guitar in E
Your voice wavers wildly in between those keys
You’re making my ears sore
You’re impolite, just like Bob Dylan (yes you are)
And you’re right-handed, just like Bob Dylan (yes you are)
And you’re trite, just like Bob Dylan
But you’re shite just like Andrea Corr
I was caught in a squall while on a pub crawl so I came in hear
Your nasal drawl’s false, it appals, gives me pain in here
I ain’t stayin’ in here, ain’t it clear
That I wish you would quit
'Til you’ve learned to play guitar a little bit
Your fingers are all thumbs
So your notes are largely bums
I’d like you to be drowned out by some drums
You’re too loud to ignore
You’re impolite, just like Bob Dylan (yes you are)
And you’re right-handed, just like Bob Dylan (yes you are)
And you’re trite, just like Bob Dylan
But you’re shite just like Andrea Corr
How much of a head start do I get Dubh? 
Love the poem . . . just like Bob Dylan.
By Beveridge???
Will O’
I’ve never liked Dylan much…
Steve
If my memory serves me correctly: HIDE 
Will O’
I think you can add Dubh to your list of would-be drive-by knicker twisters.
Why, you trouble-maker Barter! I’ll booby-trap the A39 next time you come to Cornwall! I’ll buy you a pint of Tinners and tell you it’s Doom!!
Steve
Ugh! Threatened with the St Austell Brewery no less. 
Uh…yeah…sorry…that was going too far…wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy… 
Steve
You’re still gettin’ a good drive-by-knicker-twistin’ though!
Here’s our man:
