After the last newsletter once again many of you have questioned my sanity.
Trust me I am ‘compus mentis’, though perhaps I make draw from the pages of Lord Ashcroft’s tome, more ‘pompus mentis’.
I too expect to be richly rewarded for feats of skill, and acts of derring-do. These riches and fame are yet to befall me, much in they way they have been deprived of Lord Ashcroft, as Maximus Desimus Meridius said, I have the advantage of being able to look my enemy in the eye.
I have put finger to key again; this time with the use of mid-enhancing, mind-altering and enlightening substances scraped by Neil from the lichen encrusted boulders of Sparta on a recent trip to a wedding.
Neil (inkadelic) calls this his own particular brand of tea. Tea, Pah! I can see skulls in the cup, what is that all about?
This ‘Tea’ has opened the creaky door that lies at the back of the wardrobe of my mind; this door leads into a fantasy world where the Piers Gaveston Society is just the fringe of normality.
To make matters even darker out of the gloom steps Perseus, son of Zeus; he wants to go to a Fancy Dress Party dressed as a fallen angel!
Oh, for heavens sake the things I have to come up with!
I was trying to explain that he might end up just looking singed, like Icarus after he’d flown too close to the sun, or Brian Blessed in Flash Gordon. What? You mean Gordon’s alive?
But what the son of Zeus wants, the son of Zeus gets!
Anyway… We have received some new stock perhaps the modern day equivalent of the harness. Some gilets.