Thursday, 13 November 2014


'Dear Richard Emmanuel Jones'. It starts. 'Have you noticed you used to get 2000 readers a month, but now didn't? Perhaps it is your shit poems. Who the fuck is Wigner, and what is a magnet? Don't be telling me frozen electric. Ice-pick in the brain of Maxwell my arse. You couldn't unify a -
*scrumple!*.....*fling!*....Wel, there you are. And here I might be. But I might not. But I do know this:-

About 20 years ago, in the sleepy racist town of k-, an extraordinary event occurred, that is still recounted to this day. Hans Bluckembourg, commercial traveller, and Grand fifth beak of the Great order of the Ostrich, was gazing at the moon through the eyes of a wolf. So far, so normal. But this was no ordinary run-of-the-mill lupine oculist mental projection. For he wore the most magnificent cod-piece and cape ever to enfract the eyes of that whole province, perhaps even the world. The thread of gold -

REJ:- Can I interrupt you there? -

X:- It looks like the answer is 'yes' -

REJ:- Wel, shouldn't you be doing something else? -

X:- They'll want to hear about the codpiece. It really was quite remarkable. The satin was of a special -

REJ:- No it wasn't. It wasn't, was it? Because there never was a codpiece, was there? -

X:- If I am to understand you intend to slander the Great order of the Ostrich, by insinuating that the Grand fifth beak himself would venture forth into polite society minus the holy golden codpiece, as it is written, then I am afraid I shall have to demand -

REJ:- Look, you're just making it up. Just saying the first things that -


X:- Satisfaction Sir! I shall have satisfaction as a gentleman of the -

REJ:- Ffs! I'm not playing along with this patent nonsense -

The duel took place on the third day of the month of monkeys. Atop a cedarn grove, surrounded by -

REJ:- No it fucking didn't! I would have remembered -

-surrounded by the council of Cheetahs, and -

REJ:- I would have remembered the council of Cheetahs! I remember things like that -

-surrounded by the council of Cheetahs and Her Impervious Majesty, the Queen of the ladybirds -

REJ:- Hang on a minute, that rings a bell -

-Shimmering iridescent through the frozen raindrop of Time, that static tear through which we may view the planets crying -

REJ:- No, I don't think italics helps -

-The eternal battle of the profane and the sacred was distilled upon the unwitting -

REJ:- I'll tell you what, there's nothing distilled within me. Do one of the old ones, like old times. Let's see if the magic is still there.

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