Sinister: how does it feel to be alone?

[sarah cracknell]

hello my friends

i am sorry that i must write to you in a downcast moment, rather than as my
usual hipswingy-armwavey-maracashakey-type-of-girl self.
however, i am finding it hard to be cheerful.

you see, i am locked in a cellar and you appear to be the only people that
care.
today, the boy that lives here left me a bowl of tigernuts and some orange
squash and informed me that this was a delicious nutritious healthy meal
suitable for a rock star of my calibre.  then he  drifted away like a
smile from a lover and left me to sit pondering the fickleness of fate:
just last week i was a famous international groovesome babe.  today i sit
and regard the silverfish as they flip flop across the floor of my new home.

the worst thing of all is that he hasn't installed any maracas down here.
its mental cruelty i tell you.  being deprived of my liberty is one thing,
but i risk losing my place at the cutting edge of hand-held-percussion if i
stay here much longer.

fortunately, i have learnt the basics of electronic wizardry from bob
stanley and was able to link up to the world wid web by cooing gently to a
pigeon until it brought me a length of copper wire.  i'm sure you know the
procedure from that point.

jessica, christa, you have been fooled, i am afraid to say.  that person you
saw was an impostor.  i am saddened that i am so replacable.  but perhaps
bob and pete are not aware of the situation.  i can peep under the crack of
the cellar door and i saw the boy that lives here leaving the house in a
blonde wig and a slinky catsuit earlier today.  he was muttering something
about a boy with a looper t-shirt and a pot of k.y.

those of you who love me, i beg you to help.  it is simple.  all you need to
do is send this ian fellow a plane ticket to north america (preferably
somewhere hot) and a ticket to see saint etienne in concert.  i can then get
my pigeon to intercept the delivery and will be able to sing for you all
once again.

you know the worst of all this?  you know why he kidnapped me?

he only did it so that
he could wear my terry underwear
and feel the city air
run past his body

tara, if your bleached blonde army are on their way, i await my release
eagerly and shall reward their efforts with a special sarah smile, bestowed
only upon the most worthy.

by the way, once i tried to put an elvis record up my nose, but it wouldn't
fit.

love
sarah c.

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