Dear fellow garden gnomes, It's splendid to be back, trampling the flower beds and burning ants with a magnifying glass, just like the good old days. To be honest, I think of Sinister as more of a park than a garden, complete with rather unappealing public conveniences. Consolidated Fanbase? That sounds to me like the kind of thing Norman Wisdom and Mister Grimsdale used to pit their wits against. Honey, has anyone been smashing your milk bottles? I suggest you dress up as a vicar and pay a visit to the golf course. Thank you Christopher for your kind words. I'm sure Sleeka Sounds is a fantastic pop group. In answer to your question, the only autobiographical part comes in chapter six, "Reptilian Bumhole", when Detective D. Dinkle is invited to a chimps' tea party at the zoo. I don't want to give too much of the plot away, but it turns out to be a typically mischievious bit of monkey business - the chimpanzees hold Detective D. Dinkle down while a horrible hairy orangutan fists him up the bum and an elephant simultaneously wanks him off with his elephant's trunk. Is that the kind of thing that won't be tolerated on the Jeepster unmoderated discussion list? What about if I change "horrible hairy orangutan" to "horrible hairy Murdoch" and "an elephant" to "Richard the drummer"? Seeing as Brad seems determined to ignore the constant squawking of the poetry parrot,, I thought I'd take the liberty of drawing the list's attention to a little-known story by Edgar Allan Poe - "The Brit of the Perverse". It is remarkably insightful for 1842: "One day, while sauntering listlessly about the streets, I arrested myself in the act of murmering, half aloud, these customary syllables. In a fit of petulance at my indiscretion, I remodeled them thus:- "I am safe - I am safe - yes, if I do not prove fool enough to make open confession." .....jumping ahead a bit.... "I turned - I gasped for breath. For a moment I experienced all the pangs of suffocation - I became blind, and deaf, and giddy - and at this instant it was no mortal hand, I knew, that struck me violently with a broad and massive palm upon the back. At that blow the long imprisoned secret burst forth from my soul. They say that I spoke with distinct enunciation, but with emphasis and passionate hurry, as if in dread of interruption before concluding the brief but pregnant sentences that consigned me to Dr. Peter Waterman, Her Majesty's Popologist, and to Hell." Next week, another visionary classic by Poe - "The Tell -Tale Brit", in which a mysterious trophy repeatedly bellows "Behave!" in a northern accent, despite Mad Dog Murdoch having put it in his socks and pants drawer, and "The Brit Cat", with its terrifyingly timeless ending, " I had walled the trophy up within the tomb!" Sister Disco +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the reborn Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail "sinister@majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo@majordomo.net". WWW: http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "tech-heads and students" +-+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+