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Mrs Velma Harkness writes (automatically)
I must ask you now to put your hands on the table, palms down; to desist from sucking your boiled sweets quite so resonantly; to cease fantasising about what you would do with Aimless if you had him all to yourself on a waterbed in a cheap motel in Cleveland; and to turn out the lights, without – and this is most important – detaching your palms from the table.
Very well ….
Is anyone there?
Is anyone the-e-e-e-e-r-e??
Are you with us, Poor Little Buttercup, previously known as Alfred Higgins, the Princes Risborough Wife-Shredder? Are you with us, my familiar spirit, my guide to the realms Beyond?
Or are you playing silly buggers, same as per usual?
Well, screw you then, I don’t need some dimbo pervert mucking around in the background going Wooo Woooo Woooooohhhhh like a Chinese waiter on acid, disgraceful, a man of your age, why don’t you cut your hair and get a job, you heard what that nice Mr Blunkett said, being dead is no excuse.
Ahem…
Does anyone else wish to speak with us?
I’m sensing a spirit in deep confusion, grief, pain and despair. He doesn’t know how to express in words the remorse he feels, the contrition, the intestine-twanging shame of it all…
Sorry, dear, can you say your name again?
Lund-what?
Can you spell it?
Your first name, then.
Sorry, dear, that’s just ridiculous. No one’s called ‘Toasty’. Not even Stubby Kaye, though I have it on good authority that he was called ‘Stubby’, which is almost as bad, isn’t it?
I don’t care how apologetic you feel about not writing your – what is that word again? – ‘blog’. This is complete gibberish and I’m not going to waste the time of these dear credulous ladies and gentlemen with a load of drivel about ‘futons’. Honestly!
That’s the whole problem with the Other Side, my friends: no quality control. I had Wilson, Keppel and Betty trying to muscle in on my séance last week, would you believe it?
Buttercup! Stop juggling with the glazed fruit this minute!!
(If this posting makes no sense to you, then (a) what else is new?, and (b) you should read Aimless’s comments on the Mind-altering glugs thread. That’s right, it’s all Aimless’s fault, as always. Just like acid rain.)
In these dark times, when links to Toasty’s Futon are dropping off people’s sidebars faster than crinkly red leaves off the trees, it’s Gawd-love-yer-guvnor to Geoff – surname unknown, but he’s only 43 so that rules out Geoffrey Household (died 1988) and Sir Geoffrey Keynes (died 1982) – who has linked to the Futon from both his current blogs, Geoff’s Dream Blog and Geoff’s Telly Blog.
The former, which I’m happy to report is not what it sounds as if it’s going to be, made me laugh quite a lot, and the telly blog too has moments of felicity: ‘My cold’s getting worse. I’m coughing up what look like small baby frogs.’
Don’t die on us, sir, we need you.
Speaking of which, the ‘(Real) Deaths’ feature of Toasty’s Futon is necessarily a work-in-progress, as the news of some deaths can take weeks or even months to filter through to me here in my flotation tank in Tibet.
I just wanted to say how pleased I was to be able to add to the ‘(Real) Deaths in July 2005’ list:
9 July: Derek Aylward, whose plaster cast of his own erect penis was confiscated and turned into a table lamp by Binkie Beaumont.
Excelsior!
BIG STU said…
Who are the people who've been dropping you from their links? I'll go round to theirs and re-arrange their faces, I tell ye.
AIMLESS said…
I hereby deny that I am responsible for acid rain. Mine is more of a dry, caustic rain.
TOASTY replied…
Stu: merely a few misguided souls who prefer not to link to a blog where toss-all happens for a fortnight at a time. I fully see their point. In fact, I’m knotting a noose around my neck even as I speak.
Aimless: true. You don’t actually remove the leaves from the topmost branches; you just make them feel unworthy to be there – thus conserving energy for your razor-gang activities. You cunning old sod.
ANONYMOUS said…
I simply wish to know which Wilson tried to muscle in on your recent sceance.
Harold, Sibbett, or Poon?
I regret to say, I have met them all.
TOASTY replied…
It was whichever one of them wears a fez and a knee-length nightgown and does a ludicrous sand-dance aping the postures of Egyptian hieroglyphs. So that’s Harold, presumably.
I see Wilson Poon has written Theology and Science: a dialogue with Denys the Areopagite. These physicists-cum-theologians can obviously attract a better class of guest than we see on, for example, Today With Des And Mel. Or was Denys on that as well? Maybe he’s going the rounds, plugging his latest scroll.
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