Friday, November 25, 2005

Quote of the Day

He had "delusional" beliefs that "were further complicated by his interest in mysticism, hence the development of his idea that he could communicate with animals through a third eye",

Dr Allnutt said. "At the time he really believed that he had been communicating with the rabbits, and that this interaction with the rabbits was of value to nature. He said that when this happened he would feel a 'joy' in his heart."

More meth-fuelled, mystical rabbit sadism and shagging here.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Haunted Blunkett

My mate Andrew Donkin forwarded this to the SELFS list; it's an article about how Blunkett is still living, at the tax-payers expense, in his South Eaton Place home in London despite his second resignation. In the list of fact-lets at the end of the article, it turns out that, as well as being a corrupt and greedy lecher, David Blunkett believes in ghosts:

"Mr Blunkett has lived in South Eaton Place since 2001. He is said to believe the house may be haunted. He was reported to have complained of unusual noises after dark and a strange chill in some rooms."

Full story.

No wonder he has problems sleeping alone. I think it's the ghost of John Smith, returning to warn him that he will receive a visit from three spectres, each one more terrible than the last, who will warn him of the consequences if he does not change his ways.

New Labour politics and the supernatural, what a perfect blog post!

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

John Fowles

Fowles, who died yesterday, was one of my favourite authors and I've been pondering on how to mark his passing. Lyme Regis is a nice place to visit but the undercliff is probably quite inhospitable this time of year so a pilgrimage isn’t really on.

I could, in the manner of a lot of his stories, fall obsessively in love with an individual and artistic girl but I think that box is ticked already, as is the one for ‘pontificating’ (I am writing this in a blog, after all) which Fowles characters tended to do a bit more than, say, a character in an Irvine Welsh or Michael Marshall Smith book do.

I could lock a blond in a basement, though I'd be missing the point if I thought that's what The Collector was all about so maybe I should try reading Aristos again. That could be tribute enough if I could finish it.