Monday, February 15, 2010
Bring me my bow of burning gold! Bring me my arrows of desire! Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold! Bring me my chariot of fire! November 13th – shuffled sheepishly through Israeli immigration, enduring a 30-second staring down by an oddly Aryan young woman in army fatigues. Last time an attractive girl looked at [...]
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Filed in disciple updates, journeys
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Also tagged Alex Tehrani, Arabs, Christians, Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Dean Kaufman, Debra Winger, Doctor Who, General Gordon of Khartoum, Genitals, Islam, Israel, Jerusalem, Jesus Christ, Jews, John Lydon, Micheal McLaughlin, Noah Sheldon, Nuns, Paul Bowles, Philip Larkin, Sarah Wilmer, Sausages, Tim Morris, Via Dolorosa. Austria
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Wednesday, December 9, 2009
It is a rare morning in the lifecycle of the agency that dawns with cause to be proud. Ordinarily it’s a matter of prying open encrusted eyelids to find oneself slumped in the wrinkly palm of last night’s barcalounger, empty bottles of King Shag Sauvignon Blanc scattered like bowling pins across the deep pile, fag-ends [...]
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Also tagged Alex Tehrani, Emil Zatopek, Eurovision Song Contest, Farts, Genitals, Hanoi Rocks, Henrik Knudsen, Hopenhagen, Istanbul, Joaquim Ladefoged, John Clang, Marillion, Masturbation, Ogilvy, Phillip Toledano, Pilfered, Rem Koolhaas, Stefan Ruiz, Tom Godici, Willem de Kooning
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‘Enough: corruption was the world’s first woe. What need I strain my heart beyond my ken? O but I bear my burning witness though Against the wild and wanton work of men.’ Minutes from the Annual General Meeting of Julian Richards’ shareholders, backstage at their old haunt, the Gaiety in Times Square; it’s now an [...]
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Filed in Poetry, disciple updates, homily on homily, loss
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Also tagged Dean Kaufman, Gerard Manley Hopkins, God, John Keats, Poetry, Representation, Robert Bridges, Sarah Wilmer, The Gaiety
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(cont’d from ‘Unsheathed, Perkin Lovely was a Ronnie Corbett Sausage’) ‘More likely they are his-and-hers avalanches of mouldering dumpling mix, with dentures from Minsk, matching unisex carrier-bag breasts and stained, swampy genitals. They’ll greet you at the front door of a tract house in Teaneck wearing each other’s underwear, their rabbi in the background humping [...]
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Also tagged Bay City Rollers, Boarding School, Cologne, Convents, Diseases of the Skin, Genitals, Girlfriends, Helena Bonham-Carter, Katy Grannan, Korea, Opera, Palazzo Pants, Philip Larkin, Poetry, Pornography, Prison, Ronnie Corbett, Sian Kennedy, Swingers, Terre Haute
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‘ … was once fat, with great swathes of cellulite, folds in thighs and arms, blubbery, utterly hairless, cross-eyed with a massive hydrocephalic cranium, no teeth, nonexistent chin, lathered in spit-up and drool, an extremely small penis, no balls at all, pants full of wet yellow shit. Things have improved marginally since. Now have hair.’ [...]
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Also tagged A Photo Editor, Anus, Boarding School, Cockney, Genitals, Guatemala, James Blunt, Michael Ian Kaye, PG Tips, Pornography, Rhyming Slang, Ronnie Corbett, Terre Haute, The Grand National
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(cont’d from ‘Song of the Best Western (I of III)’ and ‘Song of the Best Western (II of III)’) She thought she hadn’t slept, but she was disoriented and vaguely aware of lightning. She squinted at a point of red light in the deep dark. What was it? She could hear him breathing, Philip, half-snoring. [...]
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And so another languid excursion through the Italian homeland has run its course and we find ourselves pottering about the conservatory at Lickham Bottom (yes, we bought the Smithy’s Cottage) dabbing at the spots on our succulents. Once again we were thwarted in our efforts to attain a private audience with Pope Benedict, despite having [...]
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Also tagged Boarding School, bromeliads, Caravaggio, country music, Fanny Brawne, Greg Miller, Guggenheim Fellowship, Helena Bonham-Carter, Italy, John Keats, Joseph Severn, Nashville, Ode to a Nightingale, Poetry, Pope Benedict, poultry, Rome, Sausages, small breasts, Spanish Steps, stinging nettles
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The British are, in their own words, queer buggers. It all begins on the Virgin Atlantic Airbus with the ding-dong doorbell voice of somebody calling herself the Cabin Service Manager interrupting your search for the item on the in-flight entertainment menu most likely to make your neighbour shift uncomfortably in her seat (way-past-her-prime Meg Ryan [...]
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Also tagged Blind Spot, Blur, Britain, Eurovision Song Contest, Genitals, Istanbul, Janet Reno, Jenna Jameson, Ken Loach, Meg Ryan, mollie sugden, Noah Sheldon, Philip Larkin, Poetry, Rocket Salad, Rupert Brooke, Spotted Dick, Tim Morris, Virgin Atlantic
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Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Word is in from the electronic mailroom that the agency’s incoming ECG has recently exhibited a palpable spike. Where the cybermailbag previously resembled nothing much more than a pendulous, geriatric scrotum, it has of late plumped out appreciably, tautening away the pachydermous wrinkles and stretching its knobbly surface to a pregnant sheen. What was once [...]
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Also tagged Alex Tehrani, Barack Obama, Boarding School, Chris Buck, Dean Kaufman, Genitals, Greg Miller, Helen Keller, Henrik Knudsen, Hull, Iceland, John Betjeman, Julian Richards, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, maltesers, Micheal McLaughlin, Mike McGregor, milf, More Magazine, Pornography, Proctology, Queen Elizabeth II, Sarah Wilmer, Sausages, Sian Kennedy, Tim Morris, Tonga
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He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone. (Hamlet, Act IV, Sc. V) There are agents weeping, wandering the corridors of 609 Greenwich Street like a feral pack of Ophelias. Julian Richards, who can be easily identified by his cockle hat [...]
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Also tagged Alex Tehrani, Anus, Bruce LaBruce, Chris Buck, Dean Kaufman, Genitals, Greg Miller, Guatemala, Henrik Knudsen, Julian Richards, Micheal McLaughlin, Mike McGregor, Paris, Peru, Poetry, Pornography, Sarah Wilmer, Sian Kennedy, Tim Morris
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