A global map

MAP 2: the world

"Who is the home secretary?"
Kenneth Yakke

{small circle labelled "the rest"}

{British-Isles-shaped blob containing: at the top, "Scotland & Wales & sheep & Falklands & Whales; in the middle, "OXFORD (centre of world, life, universe)"; in the southeast, "LONDON – Cedric lives there"; and in the southwest peninsula, "DORSET (& GRAN (help!))"}

{Just to the west of Dorset is a tiny oval labelled "America"}

{Large irregular shape labelled "EUROPE incl. France & Paris – place where Helen lives & JACQUES (my hero)" with an arrow pointing to a stick figure next to a heart shot through with an arrow}

{A huge promontory off the middle of the south coast of Europe is labelled "ITALY nasty country but nice pictures"}

{Hiding in the bottom right-hand corner of the page is a small curve marked "Australia"}

A local map

APPENDIX: The world according to "Liz" a.k.a. she who must not be contradicted

MAP 1: local

{house} 39 William st – "where I live" (or is it 37 – anyway – one of the houses)

BIG ROAD (watch out for stationary vehicles)

PARKS – lots of green

{building} College "where I eat – sometimes"

{building with BLACKWELLS sign} Bookshop – where they give me lots of books and bits of paper with figures on

The lumbergrad song

    The egg will have died
    Said the chicken with sadness
    Long live the ego.

1, 2,   1, 2, 3, 4...

She's an English grad and she's insane
She works all night and she sleeps all day

She reads her texts, she deconstructs,
And knows not what facts tell,
She puts on women's clothing
And hangs around in Blackwells.

She buys thick books, she reads them through,
They make no sense at all,
And now she's got no money,
And has to eat in Hall.

[Anyone who turns into Geoffrey – raving simplistic!]

The telos of the arche

Abstract from H.M. report on Geoffrey's sanity.

"We didn't find it"

(or the sanity!)

This is not the end – it is not even the beginning of the end [no – it's a quarter of the way through the book], but it could perhaps be described as

"always already the telos of the arche."

(Hence?) you will be delighted to know, the trace of writing and the writing of the trace.¹

That is grammatological, Captain"
            Spock, spooked

"Woooooh! ooooooh!"
            Spook, spocked

¹"He started it."

Treaties made of pond

There is a pretty certain
Though common I am Bond
I'm very fond of cement
And treaties made of pond.

Though signed and sealed in Basildon
One day I can't remember
As last December weighs a ton
For fear I should dissemble.

All Hollands – raving dervish.

        See you in the place the tomatoes come from.

"The 'fridge?"
        No.
                THE VILLAGE.

Dead moob

["Politics is the moob" said the egg.]

["The egg is dead" said the chicken, who had just trodden on it.]

{ The moob is dead" said the moob. "Long live the chicken!"}

And they all went to Cambridge in a Walrus (like me!).

Song for Maastricht

There is a certain treaty
Of which I'm very fond
It is so very pretty
It cements a common bond

It was signed in lovely Holland
One day in last December
It definitely shouldn't be banned
It's the one to remember!

Those dratted folk of Denmark
Did it a great disservice
But with the strength of the great Deutschmark
They will be shot by a whirling dervish.

Though many really like it
There's some don't care for Maastricht,
To whom we say "you old git
You really need your arse kicked."