Waxwork and walrus

It is in fact untrue that Western Metaphysics has only recently been illuminated, since as long ago as last fish-day there was a rather overpowering and vile stench of rotting cod, and of course let us not forget Hamlet's ‘other’ Brain which has hung in the corner over there since Queen Mungo ended her rain by dying her hare blue.

‘In the next chamber’ continued the guide, sniffing blue and being in a strange state of having eaten twelve-and-a-third fried eggs for breakfast every day since the Battle of Loowater, ‘there is a waxwork model which some of you may find mildly disturbing. The rest of you will of course find it hugely disturbing, since it appears to each person to be the perfect likeness of their own head roasting filthily on a skewer.’

An old lady screamed.

An old gentleman collapsed.

An old Radio 4 announcer laughed.

Somewhere in the distance an old bloaty walrus sneezed so hard it blew itself to pieces, but it was a Wednesday, so everybody noticed.

And yet

And yet, and yet – how did it come to pass that there was a lightbulb in the hole in the ground wherein was his head?

Had he been more aware of his assumptions he would have been more surprised, if anyone could be. For when he removed his head from the hole – his body came back!

‘I can't get in!’ shrieked Hoppity Spadge untruthfully, but it was a Tuesday, so nobody noticed.

Touché

Ten minutes later Samuel observed "I'm still here!" Then he reflected "So I believe in the continuity of my own subjectivity! And I consider myself present – er – here. That's rather odd. I must be inserted in the philosophical tradition of Western metaphysics. Perhaps that's why it's so dark."

"Western metaphysics. Don't talk to me about western metaphysics," said a voice. It was Touché Turtle. "You don't know how lucky you are! You don't even know whether you exist or not. I do, but – I'm not going to tell you."

Then – light abruptly began to emerge from a naked bulb suspended above them. "Pardon me," said a naked Aeschylus, also suspended above them. Then, seeing Touché Turtle, "bloody hell!", and, ascending in accordance with gravity – "revenge is mine!"

Cogito ergo sumo

Do you believe in deconstruction at first sight?
(a) Yes
(b) No
(c) What an interesting use of a visual metaphor. [Yes, you clearly do – dial 0443 58562 and ask for freephone "men in white suits".]

Samuel the ostrich pondered to himself. "Gosh it's dark here – it must be night? Or perhaps there's nothing there. Alternatively, maybe I don't exist. Ah, but cogito ergo sumo wrestler. So that's O.K. So I clearly exist. But what is out there – perhaps I should dial up Jacques. Actually I feel rather peckish [pun!] – perhaps I'll dial a pizza. But there's no phone! Obviously I exist, but not the external world – that's it. I'm in charge! [enough]

Are you an Author?

Are you an Author?

1. Are you Dead?

a) Yes   [2 points for being a wise guy and knowing what to do about it.]

b) No   [No points for galloping presumptuous empirical naïveté.]

c) Don't know.   [You are Hamlet. Don't let it worry you. Pass directly into writing and do not collect £200 for killing Rosencrantz/Guildenstern who are one up as they do not even know which one they are talking about.]

d) Only when there is a bulbul in the syllabub.   [Blithering babe! You're barking mad!]

e) Are you a subject?   [17,008 points for d*c*nstr*ct*ng first and asking questions afterwards. To be subtracted if you fail to question this statement.]

f) Doesn't that beg the question?   [Not good enough – see above.]

g) Is it a question?   [-7 – see above again.]

h) "                     "   [Correct. You are an author. You may even be "the" author. So we are not going to give you any points anyway. This questionnaire has already ignored you. Have a nice day, "now".]

I said "This is boring", and answered me – "so is this!".

Raving author

All deads – raving author!

All mads – raving Poland!

Who is Sylvia?

Reginald Magdalen's geranium

666 – the number after 665, but only in certain contexts.

Albert, a three-toed sloth, also called eternity.

Textville timetable

What is the number of Swindon? Please look after this text.

0852  Normalopolis            0946
      (Central station)
      Slightly peculiar

AD    Definitely               42
1432  degenerating

999   Textville                14 BC
      (change for Derida,
      Deconstruction and
      Asylum)

)     Round the bend           1/2

{dog  Barking Mad              64.3
WOOF}

!     Liz                      ¡
      (peripheral station
      - which is the centre)

v     round the bend           ^
|______________________________|

?     Geoffrey -> right off    ¿
      the map, raving Other.   
                   The what __/

      Hello.  Hellp.