Month: May 2022

Tempus Fucking Fugit & All That

Birthday Poppet. On this day 75 years ago all sort of things happened, I’m sure, but not many that are actually of any interest to me unless I was into tubeless tyres and American drummers, which I’m not. So, on the whole the most interesting thing about 11th May 1947… ç’est de m’hi voir. There. Now I’m off to prepare the authentic Russian caviare canapés (for the Shubby, the Mi-Go and the local moggies, who like caviare) and to polish the cocktail shaker. The Cagnolitos of Tindalos have promised to bring me a distilled pan-dimensional, bend-free, incisively-angled liquor that’s guaranteed to make me see beyond the Wall of Sleep and restore my equanimity (a little dented by the enormity of actually being three quarters of a century old). Au revoir! Have a spiffing rest of the week, a massively wonderful weekend and a long, loving and resplendent, clear-headed life. Love, red rags and un po’ di mu’.


Bottled Bliss. Behold the Square Pegs! Weary with the supreme mug’s game of trying to fit into round holes, they have diversified into the trafficking of bootleg substances. They bring me the most intoxicating of potions as a sort of pre-anniversary warning. Ain’t they cute? The mixture itself is a secret formula developed by the Mi-Go and their cousins, the Lee-Loo, in cahoots with the Magister Artifex from the secret stills of the Moon Beasts of the beautiful Plateau of Leng. The Shub-Niggurath swears blue by it so it comes extremely well recommended. I intend to get totally plastered on it from today till next week, when I’ll wake up to the fact that tempus fucking fugit ever so fast, the wee bastard thing. I also will be listening to one if the best, most lucidly cynical songs ever written (by Dario Fo) and performed (by the glorious Enzo Jannacci) on the subjects greed, paranoid entitlement and the master/peasant dynamics. Enjoy and have a spiffing weekend.
And a bonus ball, for the sheer absurdity of it: