Is David Cameron a knobjockey?

bullingdon

Dave “Where am I” Cameron & some of his best Eton Chums. These people are now ruling the country. Be afraid. Be very afraid. Why is it that a nation of 60 million people can only be ruled by people from one school? The rest of us must be, like, really thick!

Is David Cameron a knobjockey? No sodding idea, to be honest. I mean, he was an Eton boy so presumably he’s familiar with the concept of buggery in the dorms and I can confirm with absolute certainty that he is an idiot promoted well beyond his pay grade by dint of the fact that he had a rich dad and went to the right school (don’t you just love the English class system…did you know that 47% of all propaganda peddlers, sorry, “journalists” writing for the “serious” “press” went to public school? the other 60 million of us must be, like, well dumb, innit) and I can also confirm that his career was aided by his readiness to assist the plutocrats that own him to butt-rape the rest of us back to feudalism. But the knobjockey stuff…couldn’t tell you….

However…I did make you click through on the link didn’t I? So…if you’re impressed with my guerrilla marketing and desirous of more delight and delectation, why not read a bit about (maybe even buy) my book, links here:

The Curious Little Book Of Extraordinary Big Tales at Amazon.com

The Curious Little Book Of Extraordinary Big Tales at Amazon.co.uk

On a personal note as a gay man, I hope to God that Cameron isn’t a knobjockey: the thought of someone like that being a member of my tribe is almost too appalling to contemplate.

The Wise Man who taught his Children to be Selfish.

falling-manOnce upon a time… many, many years ago in a world long since forgotten, there was a country called Anywhere. And in the land of Anywhere there was a fine and prosperous city called Anyplace and in this fine city lived man who had two children, two boys, twins.

Now this man was a Wise Man. Not “wise” in the sense of Kindly And Knowledgeable but wise as in the sense of Wise To The Ways Of The World and one of the ways in which he was wise to the ways of the world was that he had come to the understanding, at an early age, that this life rewards not the good but rather those who are selfish and greedy and who take what they want when they want it without regard to the thoughts, feelings or needs of others. Indeed he had come to the conclusion that Selfishness, Greed and a Lack Of Care for others were they keys to a happy life.

He determined that he would inculcate this philosophy into his twin boys.

So again and again throughout the twins’ childhood and adolescence  the father told the boys not to listen to what they were taught at school or elsewhere about being Nice To Others, or being Helpful, or Caring…it was all nonsense and would lead to a life of poverty and misery. Instead, they should be Greedy, Selfish and put their own needs above those of others .There was no Judgement in this World, no Reward for Being Good. Never, he said, put anyone elses needs before your own, never offer a Hand In Help to another person, never miss a chance to stab someone in the back or kick a man when he was down, never concern yourself with the Feelings Of Others. Take what you want when you want from who you want. This, he said, is the way to Fulfillment And Happiness and a Prosperous and Successful life.

Both twins listened to the father’s oft repeated advice, but not both believed it. The first twin believed, for he was very much The Son Of The Father, handsome and intelligent but had you met him, you would have felt there was something a bit dark about him, a Touch Of The Troll, perhaps. The second twin simply could not accept the father’s advice; he was more The Son Of The Mother and, whilst handsome and intelligent like the first twin, had a gentle and caring nature. Had you met him you would have thought he was an awfully nice chap, though perhaps a bit of a fool.

With the inevitability of the Cycle Of Life, adulthood eventually called for the twins and they went out Into The World to Build Lives for themselves, the first twin applying the philosophy of the father to all things, the second rejecting it completely and simply being caring, kind, happy-go-lucky.

And now we come to one of those points in one of my tales From Anywhere at which you, dear Reader, expect a particular kind of ending. But, as I’ve said before, this is no fairytale, this is real life.

What you want me to say is that after initial success from the application of Ruthlessness And Selfishness the first twin eventually had to pay a price for his wicked ways and ended up poor, alone, a broken man whilst the second twin, after some initial struggles, eventually reaped the rewards of his Kindness And Compassion, became rich, married a beautiful woman, had gorgeous children and lived happily ever after.

Truth is, both twins went into the world of business. Both being bright and hardworking, both did well. But the first twin capitalised on his success, was Ruthless And Selfish, took what he wanted when he wanted and was happy to tread others into the dirt. He became a very, very rich man who was feared and respected, married a beautiful woman, had gorgeous children, had a fabulous time and lived happily ever after.

The second twin, the Kind Compassionate One, never managed to take full advantage of his success in business, he was always thoughtful of the feelings and needs of others and never quite ruthless enough to Take The Necessary Hard Decisions. What’s more, being a Kind Fellow, he was always helping out others. Seeing such Kindness And Compassion, people around him considered him to be Stupid and Foolish, not a man to be feared and respected so they cheated him, used him, stole from him. As a consequence of his Kindness, which others exploited as Weakness, the second twin would end up emotionally and financially drained, he would loose his business, his home, his prospects and at the comparatively young age of 43 he would, in despair, end his life by throwing himself from a high window of The Asylum For The Strange And The Different.

And the moral of this particular tale is: The Devil really does have all the best tunes and he absolutely does look after his own.

Hmm, well, that’s a particularly dark tale even by my standards! I know that challenging your audience isn’t the way to sell books, but I just don’t seem to be able to help myself!

The above story will feature in my forthcoming book, “The Curious Little Book Of Extraordinary Big Tales VOL. 2″

VOL. 1 is on sale now at Amazon:

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Image: pixgood.com

 

Why I won’t be voting in the General Election.

voteI won’t be voting in the upcoming election. Why not? Because what is the point? Seriously, what is the point?

But…but…it’s your democratic duty I hear you cry! Bullshit. You’re making an incorrect assumption that we do actually live in a democracy. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Living in a democracy would imply that a general election offered a genuine choice as to how we’re ruled. Truth is, all politicians (Dave Camoron, Eddie Millipede, Nick Smegg, Nigel Sewage) represent only the interests of the Plutocrat class (the One Percent) that owns them. They are not interested in you. They are not interested in what you think. They’ll say they are, oh, how they will say they are. And then, when they get your vote, when they’re in power, they’ll bow down before the power of international capital and do what they’re told and you can go get fucked. That’s why since the end of the 1970’s there are only two consist themes in the political story of this country: whatever the government, public services have got worse and income distribution has grown more and more uneven.

So. Wake Up. Smell the coffee. This is no democracy. The election will not be a “democratic” choice between political alternatives. The “election” (such as it is) has already been decided and won, hands down, by the One Percent…it will be no more than a shuffling of pig snouts around the goodies-stuffed plutocrats’ pig trough; a sad and sorry story of ordinary people lied to, betrayed and shat on so that one corrupt, psychotic, child rapist politician can spend 5 years lining his pockets and satisfying his perverse desires at the expense of another corrupt, psychotic, child rapist. And at your expense too as you’ll spend another 5 years getting poorer and watching in despair as the life-chances of your children dwindle to nothing.

Be like me. Don’t vote. Don’t endorse our scum political class. Don’t fall for their lies or those churned by our equally corrupt media (the propaganda wing of the plutocracy), don’t think they care. Deny them the patina of legitimacy they’re seeking. Show them you’re simply not interested in the political system and faux democracy. Perhaps if no-one votes they’ll realise that we’re not interested anymore, that we’ve seen through they’re lies and criminality, that we know they represent only themselves and the One Percent. Maybe then they’ll crawl back under the shit-stained stone they came from and society will have a chance to grow and prosper rather than continue its current speedy descent to feudalism…

 

Buy a Curious Little Book now for just 99 cents/99p, or meet a Troll…

CURIOUSYou can now (until Weds. 1st April only) buy my book “The Curious Little Book of Extraordinary Big Tales” for just 99cents/99p…this is a limited time offer and I’ve got a pissed off fairy on my back, bills to pay plus three lovely dogs to feed, so buy it now. Or I’ll send the Trolls round….

“Unusual, highly imaginative and well-written…I can’t wait to read more!” (US REVIEWS)

“Vivid, visually rich…truly eloquent writing.” (US REVIEWS)

“Sweet, funny, cleverly written…thought provoking and entertaining. I thoroughly recommend it!” (UK REVIEWS)

“Captivating…immersed me right from the start!” (US REVIEWS)

Did you know that a Fairy lives for exactly 897 years and 13 days, that they kidnap human children because they can’t have their own and when they cry, their tears turn into diamonds? Did you know that real Trolls have horns, can run as fast as cheetahs and have a deep and abiding hatred of Bankers? Did you know that as you read this the Blind Old Weaver Of Fate is Clumsily Spinning Together the course of your life? Did you know that you began your existence as a random handful of atoms, coalescing together after journeying across the vastness of the Universe and when God saw you he was so moved by your beauty that he tore a piece off himself and placed it inside you?

Did you know that where ever you walk the Devil and his Special Children walk with you and that one day your Soul will Break The Chains Of Earthly Existence to make one last, Incandescent Journey across a Broad, Bright Blue Sky and the Tale That Was Your Life will slowly fade away, to be lost forever in the dense Fog Of Forgotten Stories?

Did you know that if you speak the words “Once upon a time,” anything can happen?

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The Mother who Loved her Son so much that she followed him out of this Life.

fireheart

“Their souls danced across the Broad Blue Sky with all the intricately complex, flawless logic of a Mathematical Equation and the graceful beauty of a Murmuration of Starlings.”

THIS little Tale is from my forthcoming book, THE CURIOUS LITTLE BOOK OF EXTRAORDINARY BIG TALES (VOLUME 2)….VOLUME 1  is available to buy now, just scroll down the site for reviews and free to read extracts, and then buy it or suffer a Fairy’s Curse…

Once upon a time… many, many years ago in a world long since forgotten, there was a country called Anywhere. And in the land of Anywhere there was a fine and prosperous city called Anyplace and within the city of Anyplace was a hospital for children. In a particular room in this hospital lay a particular child, a boy of just nine years of age. The Boy had been struck down by one of the cruellest threads that the Blind Old Weaver Of Fate, in all her capricious randomness, can weave. The Boy was dying of an Incurable Cancer.

Sitting with The Boy was his Mother, She sat, still, determined, watchful for The Boy’s doctors had told him that the ravages of the Incurable Cancer were now such that this day would Most Likely be The Boy’s Last Day and The Mother was determined not to miss a moment for she loved The Boy absolutely, this child was her life, she had seen him into this world and held him in his first few seconds of his life; she would see him out of this world, too, and hold him in his last few seconds of life.

As The Mother sat in her Patient Vigil over her dying son, she thought briefly of The Boy’s father. It was sad he was not here; he had been a handsome but Selfish and Self-Obsessed man and had abandoned his wife and son in the second year of The Boy’s life to Take Up With another woman, a Younger Model. Not once had he ever contacted wife and son again and The Mother knew not where he was. Ever since his departure it had been her and The Boy. Everything she did for The Boy, her horrible, poorly paid job, the long hours, the worries about rents and bills, the sheer bloody struggle of everyday life for an Ordinary Person in this land where once again The Greedy One Percent were in Rapacious Ascendancy…that, all of that, it was all for The Boy and it was all made worthwhile by The Boy. Everything for The Boy because The Boy is Everything. Such is the Nature Of Love.

The Mother reaches out a hand, across The Boy’s bed and lays it on her son’s forehead. The Boy moves slightly and, to The Mother’s delight, a smile blossoms on his pale face. A feeling of warmth travels up The Mother’s arm and she feels blessed relief from the Howling Horror of her and The Boy’s sorry circumstances. And suddenly a picture forms in her mind, of an expanse of fields and woodland, an isolated rural area many miles outside Anyplace that she and The Boy had visited many times: The Boy had loved it there and as he ran through the grass and flowers, dodging in and out of trees, radiant and healthy under a Broad, Bright Blue Sky he would excitedly ask Mum, Will We See a Troll, Will We See A Troll?

And in The Mother’s head, as real as you are sitting there reading this, The Boy speaks and says, Please Mum, Not Here Mum, Not In This Cold, White Room.

Suddenly all is clear. The Mother knows that this is not the place her son should die. Not here, not here in this cold, white room surrounded by the Professional Indifference of doctors and nurses and by the Tragedy of Too Many Other young lives fading far too soon into The Dense Fog Of Forgotten Stories. Her son shall die in that place of grass and flowers that he loves so much, that place so open to the Possibilities of the Broad, Bright Blue Sky.

Without further thought, The Mother gathered up The Boy to herself and took him from that cold, white place. It should have been a difficult thing to steal away a dying child from a hospital but God, in one of his rare moments of actually Paying Attention to what was going on in one of The Many Worlds He Had Created, was moved by this Tale of a boy and a mother and intervened with the Blind Old Weaver Of Fate to ensure that some Rare Lucky Threads Of Gold were spun into the story of both The Mother and The Boy. On the way out of the hospital, nobody challenged the woman who was clutching to herself a sick child. Two nurses and an orderly thought briefly of saying something but had a sense of intruding on Something They Did Not Understand and Should Leave Well Alone.

Thus it was that The Mother and The Boy passed by nurses, doctors, orderlies unmolested and left the hospital. Outside, a passing clarb driver noticed the pair; a weary and distraught mother holding to her body and heart a pale and obviously very sick child. Moved at a level he at once Understood But Did Not Understand, the clarb driver pulled over and asked The Mother if she would like a lift and where too and There’ll Be No Fair To Pay, Darlin’.
Thus it was that The Mother and The Boy arrived in the hills outside of Anyplace, where resided the Gross And Tasteless Mansions of the vile and destructive Greedy One Percent. The Mother and The Boy took leave of the kind clarb driver and began to walk. They walked past the mansions of the Rapaciously Rapist Rich, over the hills that surrounded Anyplace and out, far, far out into the wild and beautiful countryside that constitutes most of the land of Anywhere. For four hours The Mother walked, carrying The Boy with Love and Care, as if he where The Most Precious Thing In The World. At no time did she stop or lay The Boy down to rest her arms; for her The Boy never became heavy, never became a burden, never made her weary. Whether that be because of the Magick that still lives on in the land of Anywhere or the simple Power Of Love you must decide for yourself.

Finally The Mother and The Boy were deep within the wild, rural landscape which the boy loved so much, a place where few people came and where Magick and Trolls can still be found. Coming to grassy hillock, spotted with beautiful purple and yellow flowers, near a small stand of trees The Mother sat. She lifted her son, pale and barely breathing, upwards in her arms and held her face to that of the child, pressing cheek to cheek and silently she wept Tears Of Utter Desolation. But as she cried she felt that feeling of warmth she had felt earlier in the hospital and once again her son’s voice was in her head. Mum, Thanks For Bringing Me Here, This Is Where I Wanted To Be. Of Course, My Son, Anything For You. It’s Beautiful Here, Isn’t It, Mum? And Mum, Mum, Guess What…We’re Going To Meet A Troll!!

And no sooner had The Boy Uttered these words in The Mother’s head then who should emerge from out of the nearby trees? A Troll, that’s who. A huge Troll. And one of great age, for this Troll’s fur was entirely grey. In no time at all (for even very old Trolls move at great speed) the Troll was standing before The Mother and The Boy. Calmly the Troll sat down in front of the pair. At this point the mother as was somewhat perturbed, for humans see Trolls as dangerous. In reality, Trolls are gentle, peaceful creatures, charged by The Universe with protecting Love and all that is Good and Decent, but they have been demonised by The Greedy And Murderous Rich and the Bankers and their tame and controlled Means Of Communication to justify killing them and stealing their lands for Development Purposes.

The Troll, aware what most humans think of his kind, quickly explained all this to The Mother to forestall her fear. He explained that he’d been called to be In This Place At This Time by The Boy and so he had come, for it is a Universal Law that no Troll can ignore the Wishes Of A Dying Child of any species, and The Boy had two wishes for his the short time he had left in this world: to meet a Troll and to depart on his Final Journey across a Broad, Bright Blue Sky from the arms of his mother, in a place he had loved so much when he had been well.

The Troll instructed The Mother, now made peaceful and at ease by the Troll’s gentle demeanour and calm voice, to look down at The Boy’s face. And she did so, and she saw that The Boy was smiling in a way you in your world would call “from ear to ear” and that, more, the pain of illness seemed to have left his face: he looked like a happy and healthy little boy who was simply asleep, an impression added to by the fact The Mother could see that, under The Boy’s eyelids, his eyes were darting back and forth as though he were having a Happy Dream.
The Mother looked back at the Troll and smiled at him in gratitude. Somehow, she knew not how but she knew, her son’s happier state was due to the Troll. The Troll smiled back at the woman and suddenly tilted his huge head to the left, cocking a big Troll ear upwards, as though catching a Whisper On The Breeze.
The Troll looked thoughtful and said to The Mother:

“I hear another Wish. It is your Wish. It says to me you no longer have a use for this world, that this world without The Boy is an empty place for you, one in which you do not wish to remain. Think carefully, human, if this is what you want, I can make it so for this is still a land of Magick, humans have destroyed much of it for you are its antithesis as the Devil walks amongst you, but it is still there and can still be reached. There are Words, ancient Words, that if uttered will free the Souls of you and your son to make a journey across the Broad, Bright Blue Sky to That Which Lies Beyond together. Tell me, shall I speak those words?”

The Mother clutched her son even tighter and huge tears welled up in her eyes and there was no need to answer the question.

The Troll began to speak Words. Words from a language that is older than the genetic code of humanity. The Words were Deep and Rolling and Rhythmic and Hypnotic. The Mother felt herself slipping away to Another Place, felt as if herself and her son were becoming one and suddenly The Boy’s eyes opened and met the Mother’s and The Boy laughed and said in a voice that sounded like the Sweetest Music:

“Hey, Mum, it’s time for us to go now!”

Together, the Boy and The Mother were cloaked in a bright, white light which grew in intensity and suddenly exploded outwards. And their Souls, woman and boy, were simultaneously freed from their Earthly Bodies.
The Souls shot upwards, burning an Incandescent Path across the Broad, Bright Blue Sky, together performing a dance of burning light, of a complexity as intense and beautiful as the irresistible, flawless logic of a Mathematical Equation or the eye catching wonder of a Murmuration Of Starlings. And occasionally, in the course of their dance across the sky, the two souls would glance off each other and from each meeting would radiate out a huge, circular rainbow of awe-inspiring radiance and such size as to be visible as far away as the city of Anyplace where those that saw it would be moved in a way that they at once Understood But Did Not Understand.

BUY THE CURIOUS LITTLE BOOK OF EXTRAORDINARY BIG TALES (VOL. 1) AT AMAZON.COM $2.99

BUY THE CURIOUS LITTLE BOOK OF EXTRAORDINARY BIG TALES  (VOL. 1) AT AMAZON.CO.UK £1.99

The Curious Tale of Bonty Liar: a Politician so Corrupt he Burst Into Flames

Conservative-demon-eyes-c-001THIS…cautionary, strange little Tale is from my forthcoming book, THE CURIOUS LITTLE BOOK OF EXTRAORDINARY BIG TALES (VOLUME 2)….VOLUME 1  is available to buy now, just scroll down the site for reviews and free to read extracts, and then buy it or suffer a Fairy’s Curse…

Once upon a time… many, many years ago in a world long since forgotten, there was a country called Anywhere. And in the land of Anywhere there was a fine and prosperous city called Anyplace and in this city there lived, during the times of the ascendancy of the destructive and rapist Greedy One Percent, a politician called Bonty Liar.

Now Bonty was a hugely corrupt man, most definitely one of the Devil’s Special Children. From a well to do family, he had been educated at one of the Finest Public Schools in the land of Anywhere, benefiting from the Best Education Money Can Buy.

From school he went to Anywhere’s top university and then, with help from Friends Of His Father, he entered the legal profession and soon, by dint of the fact that he was a good actor, an adept liar and lacking in social or moral conscience he, not surprisingly, did very well in his chosen career and quickly became regarded as a Promising Young Lawyer.

It was at the Promising Young Lawyer stage that he was spotted by members of The Greedy One Percent, who were always on the lookout for bright, morality-free, personable young men and women they could manoeuvre into positions of Responsibility And Power.

And so the inducements began. Having a Feral Ability to sniff out Bad Character, The Greedy One Percent recognised Bonty’s Dysfunctionally Strange sense of self-regard, his greed for money and power and psychopathic tendencies and suggested to him that he might enter the World Of Politics where, should he but do their bidding, he could be very useful to them and they could offer to him in return fame, power and lots and lots of money: a huge advance for a book of his memoirs at a later point in the future, a Guaranteed Income Stream from speaking tours (addressing members of The One Percent), lucratively paid non-executive directorships on the boards of Banks And Corporations, well-rewarded contracts to write articles for The Means Of Communication…these were just some of the inducements offered to Bonty to enter the World Of Politics.

Bonty accepted everything offered gladly: he was, and always had been, fascinated by the extremely wealthy and was desperate to join their ranks.

Mentored by The One Percent, quietly supported by their money and noisily supported by their tame journalists in The Means Of Communication, Bonty rose quickly in the Political Sphere, soon becoming Leader of his party and then Leader Of The Country.

Bonty now proved his worth to The Greedy One Percent. If a law needed changing or abrogating to allow them to pursue a business that had previously been seen as unconscionable or illegal, Bonty changed it. If a (rare as Trolls teeth) honest politician or journalist needed to be blackmailed or bludgeoned into silence, Tony wielded the club. If corrupt policy had to be justified by lies, Bonty lied. If the Public Services or Benefits And Welfare had to be cut to impoverish The Ordinary Folk, Bonty did the cutting. If an Illegal War needed to be started in a Far Flung Land to enable The Greedy One Percent to steal its resources and make even more money selling arms…well, Bonty started it.

In short, Bonty proved to be an Invaluable Servant of The Greedy One Percent. If anything, they came to realise that they had, in fact, underestimated his greed for money and power and the depths of his psychopathic leanings: Bonty not only did what they wanted but during the course of his ten years as Leader, he managed to prostitute the entire Office Of Leadership to nothing else but enriching himself and his Owners.

I suppose it could be argued that The Ordinary Folk of Anywhere had some blame in the rise of Bonty Liar. Perhaps they should have noticed the blindingly obvious fact that his surname was LIAR or perhaps they should have realised that his infuriating habit of smiling whenever he was talking was in fact a form of “Distraction Theft;” the cheesy grin distracting your eye whilst hands sneak round the back of you and steal your wallet, your Life Chances and the lives of your children. I suppose I would then have to say, how can people make informed decisions when The Means Of Communication function as a 24 hour, 7 day a week, 365 days a year Propaganda Mouthpiece for the wealthy and powerful?

Whatever the rights and wrongs, Bonty accumulated vast amounts of Blood And Treasure and became a happy man. And if his incredible success was built on the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people in Far Flung Foreign Lands and the impoverishment of others in his own country…well, then, what of it. You Ordinary Folk are but a detail of history.

Now one particular day, three years after stepping down as Leader Of The Country, Bonty (now an immensely wealthy non-executive director of numerous corporations and banks, columnist, after dinner speaker, author, property investor and, irony of ironies, Peace Envoy) was giving a speech (for a very nice fee) to a Select Group of Greedy One Percent Individuals and something very, very strange happened.

Bonty had spent a good half hour lauding the Wonderful And Generous Nature of the fabulously Wealthy and their Inestimable Contribution To The Nation, extolling the virtues of the Magick of “Trickle Down” theory and was just about to start telling a series of Vile Lies about the Leader of a Far Flung Foreign land, that being to lay the ground work for Propaganda in the next day’s Means Of Communication that would eventually become justification for another Illegal War, when his Soul decided it had had enough.

For, oddly, despite spending a lifetime in Bonty’s corrupt body, his Soul had remained Pure, close to God and In Equilibrium With The Universe. But as it saw yet more filth and lies coming down from Bonty’s mind, words aimed at starting yet another war in which yet more Innocents would die, his Soul decided enough was enough. It had always tried to do its God-Given duty, had spent decades telling Bonty, No Don’t Do That Its Horrible. Always it had been ignored, always squeezed out by Bonty’s lust for money and power, by his complete lack of regard for others. It was time to accept defeat and save itself from the Rampant Corruption that this man, this Child Of The Devil, represented. It was off, it was out of there and on to That Which Lay Beyond, Sod This For A Game Of Soldiers.

As Bonty uttered the first of his lies about the Leader of the Far Flung Foreign Land, his face became very red. Sweat broke out on his forehead and poured down his face, he paused as he spoke, discomfited by the intense heat that seemed to have flared up deep inside himself. Then he moaned in pain as more heat bubbled up from somewhere deep inside and steam came off him in great waves, he rolled his head back and screamed as his eyes turned all white, like an egg yolk being boiled… clouds of smoke billowed from his mouth, nostrils and ears and he suddenly, and explosively, burst into flames, fire consuming his body as he stood at his lectern.

Terrified by such a spectacle, his Rich Guests ran screaming from the room, sparing them the sight of Bonty’s flaming head exploding into tiny fragments as his rebellious Soul, the source of the heat that had consumed Bonty, made its exit from his Vile Body, a fast-moving Incandescence, shooting upwards, smashing through the nearest window, out into Fresh And Sweet Air and making its escape across a Broad, Bright Blue Sky.

What was left of Bonty’s body collapsed to the floor, lying smouldering by the lectern, and at that point the ground around began to shake and tremor and a large hole opened up in the floor by Bonty’s remains. It was hole so deep that it reached down to Hell itself and from it issued Flame and the Nauseating Smell of Brimstone, and out of the Hole crept a large, scaly, red hand which snatched away the remains of Bonty and dragged them down to the Eternal Inferno Of Pain: the hand of the Devil himself, come to reclaim one of his Special Children.