TONY, WESTSIDE STORY (from a song by Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim): ‘There’s a place for us, somewhere a place for us, peace and quiet and open air, wait for us, somewhere’ A EXTRATERRESTRIAL’S ALTERNATIVE: Somewhere within someplace, perhaps a fool’s paradise island, although conceivably not, the abundance of smart-arse nincompoops of this dreary, erstwhile … More THE CRUELEST TRICKERY OF ALL
Likely it would have happened regardless of the earthquake, after all for every beginning there is inevitably an end. Time out of kilter. That’s all. Even so, a pity he had to die so young. When the soldiers had dragged his corpse out of the rubble he looked like an unwashed burly, surprisingly pinkish, pig … More IN THE WAKE OF THE QUAKE
blink and you will miss me me the old fool I exist in this moment as do you my friend too soon both you and I will be the dust of cosmic storms our purpose whatever it may have been as unsure of itself and as mystical as in the now before long we shall … More BLINK AND YOU WILL MISS ME
An extract from the autobiography of the much fabled Twattersley Fromage MBE, TP, UFC, WNKR of the First Order & Jolly Decent Chap My quest a simple yet illustrious one that would herald the dawn of a new heroic age of exploration. At the behest of none other than Her Majesty herself I had willingly … More A WOMAN IN LOVE HAS NO NEED OF A THERMAL VEST
The potential of a life of clinical debauchery had its delectable merits, more so when one had the ear of The Pope. Better that than a lifetime of tedium, kneeling upon cold stone with glued palms and eyes closed tight dreaming only of forbidden celestial flesh. Given that hara-kiri was not of his fancy it … More THE HOUSE OF VIVID MEMORIES
A Photo Salvador Dalí kindly took of Shirley & I at our favourite Parisian Café back in ’24 It is June 1924 in the magical period of the ‘Années folles’. We are in The City of Love. Paris by any other name. Moreover, we are young and devoted to one another. Overnight, spring has turned … More SCOTT FITZGERALD’S PENIS
Always I have hugged trees. Even as a small child I hugged them…all varieties mind…for there is nothing like communing with nature in my book. In point of fact nothing can match the feeling of bare skin on bark…the silver birch especially. My parents thought me most odd. Pater would often say to me, ‘Jessica, … More THE SAD DEMISE OF JESSICA DOWNLOW – THE TREE HUGGING SUICIDAL POET
