The Madness Of King Charlie

He lived on nothing but Tiger Blood and Vermin Pellets in the company of two supreme Goddess Micey Whores. He wore outlandish pelts and conquered all forms of media. He mastered the art of soundbite and made bacchanalian orgiastic fenzy an art form like no other creature before him. He got away with murder. He ruled the saturated interwebbish universe all week until he was knocked off his electronic headline perch by a great unjust wave of untimely death that was not entirely his own undoing. The King is dead long live the king. Whatever…

Cutting open the corpse dissecting the spleen we could not wait to get inside him. We left the offal for the hungry cat, the micey whores, the tender worms and desperate pigeons. We took a knife and lifted a fork and we ate the brains of the deposed creature. We were hoping to imbibe the dank dream world and scurrying insanity of all tart scavenging rodent life everywhere. We were scheming to appropriate some of that king rat stamina and make like it was our own! We were thinking if we could just siphon off some pumping rat vigour Our lives would never be the same again We knew that what they call viral infestation is nothing but ego engorging fame. We wanted some. Why can’t we have some? We must have some of that King Rat Charlie being.

However What transpires is an unearthly otherworldly sound An unearthly otherworldly sound transmitted through lice ridden peltish hide A peltish hide with sticky fur standing up on grey edge in damp back yard! Emitting blue rayed frequencies the sky suddenly breaks We hear he sound of STASIS73, COLUMN ONE, NURSE WITH WOUND, AFANANSI VIEBEG, MONKEY ISLAND, MINOR MINE, BRITANNIA THEATRE, BAND OF HOLY JOY and much more. This gibbering glimmering dissonant melodic soundwave from the margin mixed and scaped and scraped and taped by Inga Tillere rises up to rule the world…


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