Sinister: Aren't people annoying when they're in love?

[Funkyseb at xxx.com]

Hello popkidsss,
how are you all then? 
Oh.
Well don't rub it then, and it won't hurt. Tsk.

I feel like I've been away for ever. I'm sure my memory's faded on this list,
as you've callously allowed SOMEONE ELSE TO BE CALLED SEBASTIAN!
Pah. Tarts.
It's been a turbulent time chez seb, but I think it's all over now. You see
I've found my Belle (don't snigger), and it looks like everything's going to
be fine.
You can have my name- I don't think I'm a sebastian anymore.
My unrequited love days are over.
Rah!
Anyway, what's going on around here now?  I trust everyone's in mourning for
Ted Whohes. I used to think he was an overrated bore; funny how the use of the
past tense can alter one's opinions?  It is sad though. He was never the hoary
old git people wanted him to be, not an evil bastard facist MAN who killed a
tender fragile 'poet' .  I worked with him for a bit, on a play he'd written,
and he seemed nothing more than a thoughtful, and slightly pissed old man.
He did watch all the boys taking their costumes off though. And he made us
masturbate on stage..mmm. Still, that aside, the world will miss him, and his
work, especially the one where he's writing a poem and a fox comes to the
study window late at night....magic.

I just hope Sylvia Plath's not waiting for him with a viciously sharp Biro,
that's all.

byebye
Seb

(Incidently, I ought to tell you all an annecdote. So I will.
Where I live is in a slightly battered bit of south london, straggling along
the river, and spoiling the view for the rich people on the north bank. It's
quiet round here, and I imagine there are quite a few foxes, but that's beside
the point.
Anyway, there's nowhere better to put on a big coat, and go wandering round on
a chilly day, so that's what I was doing, singing B&S very loudly to the
passing boats.
Just as I arrived on the poshest bit of the north bank I was singing ''ease
your feet into the sea'' and the moment that that high note left my mouth, I
realised there was no way I could ever reach it...
It screamed uncontrollably, and it bounced of the river walls and came back
twice as loud, twice as nasty. The birds scattered into the air, and a man I
hadn't noticed before, darted across the road away from me, looking back with
genuine fear in his piggy eyes. He ran inelegantly up the road, eyes darting
back at me every two yards, and making up in speed what he lacked in style.
It was Andrew Lloyd Webber. 
I made him crap his pats!!!hahahahahahha!
I assume it was some kind of Vampire/Garlic reaction, so kids, if you're
unfortunate enough to run into the tosser, hum a few bars of The State I'm In,
and with luck, he'll explode like someone on UltraViolet. Leaving nothing
behind him except a pile of dust.
And a virtually dead Theatre Industry, and some second hand songs, of course.
Not really as good as Rory's General Pinnochet story, but vaguely interesting,
maybe?)
anyway, as you were then. Thanks for the lovely tape Mike & Pam.
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