Sinister: Love's oldest Dreamer

[Saint Peter]

'Dear Isobel

My love for you is like the rocks beneath - permanent and'

no, too forward, and a little cliched...

'Dear Isobel

Something in the way you move, attracts me like no other lover'

no, she's bound to know where that came from....


Oh, hello, I mean Good afternoon mortals and fellow listees.  My name is
Peter.  I am
an Angel of the Lord, and I live in Heaven.  Of which, the less said the
better.

I'm a very busy man, you know.  Although, technically, I'm not actually a
man, but I'm not explaining that here, it would take too long and there are
things I'd get Thrown Out of the Up Above for divulging.  And life on earth
isn't fun for a disinherited angel.  Generally, the Big Guy turns you into
some freak before he sends you Down Here and you have to spend the rest of
Eternity with
people backing away from you with Miffy handbags over their noses.  So don't
ask me, because I won't tell you.  And anyway, I don't have time to explain.
I'm down here on a Mission.  I need to seek out the woman you call Isobel
Campbell, for she is the next Prophet of the Lord and must be informed of
this Divine Providence.

Okay, so that's a lie.  Angels don't tell lies.  I've been here on this
Earth too long already.  Before long, I'll start wanting to fuck, and that
causes all sorts of problems.  Especially when, technically, you aren't
actually a man.  Although some people go for that, but I don't have time to
tell you about them.  The reason I have to find Isobel Campbell is......
is..........
I don't know.  I can't explain it.  I just have to find her.  I have to talk
to her, to hear her voice, to tell her of these strange feelings she
inspires, or regret it for the Rest of Eternity.  You see, I saw a picture
of her, on this lad's computer, in a dark town in the middle of England -
"that's Isobel Campbell -- you should go to Scotland and fall in love with
her" he said.  yeah, that's what he said, and he didn't think about how much
trouble it would cause me.  He just said it, and went back to playing with
himself.


I'm in Cambridge.  I know she's here.

I found a library round the back of the SitNWiggle Club in a small town in
Scotland, and I looked at a machine, and i found this:

>Administration and Support in the Department of Applied Economics

>Isobel Campbell-Stewart Librarian  Bella.Campbell-Stewart at econ.cam.ac.uk


What is a Stewart Librarian?  Do they, like other librarians, always keep
their word?  How do I introduce myself to her?  I've met a few great writers
in my time, and I'm looking to them for inspiration.  What would Billy
Shakespeare have said?

'Dear Isobel

Will these hands ne'er be clean?'

No, utterly inappropriate.


Fucking hell, what's the good of hanging out with lots of dead people if you
don't LEARN anything from them?  'cept I don't really get to hang out with
them, I'm too busy manning the entrance.  Keeping the likes of Russell Grant
away from people who don't want to be bothered by some camp old blerter.
Then there's Michael Aspel, always after new material for that programme of
his.  Bloody persistent he is, too.  I've threatened him with fire and
brimstone many times but he just laughs and adjusts his never-changing hair.
Once, I let him speak to Eamonn Andrews and --

enough.  There's nothing, there's nothing I can think of to say to
her..Aldous Huxley would have thought of something... but Aldous isn't here.
Never there, friends, when you want them.  Always bothering you at other
times, asking you metaphysical questions, thinking you know the answer to
everything just because you live in a super-enlightened realm.. I tell him,
I say "Aldous, I didn't MAKE the fucking place, I just have to look after
it.  Ask the big J, if he's out of the whorehouse this early.."

Oh, you didn't hear me say that.

I'll settle for something simple..

'Isobel.

You are the amniotic fluid in the womb of my universe, the placenta which
feeds me, and sustains my rebirth.  I dream of my existence brushing against
yours, and holding it in communion for a moment or two.
Yours
Peter, St.  (Divine Emissary)'

There...that comes straight to the point, doesn't it?

So, I drop this off at the University, give her some time to receive it and
read it, I don't want to look too Mark Chapman - I spoke to John Lennon once
and he says fans turning up unannounced is a REAL turn-off...
play it a bit cool, go explore Cambridge for a bit.  Somebody..... that
E.M. Forster, I think once told me it was quite nice, 'part from all the
sodomy...Odd he should say such a thing, once you get to know him.  So, I go
exploring, look around, find some pretty scenery, find some pretty
buildings, find some pretty little short-skirted-
no, Peter, you are an ANGEL.
Give her some time, play it cool, look around.

I phone the boy who showed me her photo:

"I'm going to meet Isobel Campbell, how should I shape my appearance?"

"Look, I can't talk now, the postman has just delivered some letters and I'm
OHHH that's good"

"Don't fuck with me, boy" I tell him, I shout, and I put on my Voice Of The
Heavens (similar to Voice Of The Beehive only a lot deeper and without the
harmonies.  Oh and scary as a fuck of a fuck being fucked)  and I roar
"Don't fuck with me, boy..."

"I'm not, I'm fucking with----"

"JUST TELL ME"

"Oh, I don't know.  She likes twee shite, from what I can tell.  Try and
look like a Hello Kitty pencil case"

I hang up on the fucker.  I'll remember this, I'll write it in my Holy Ten
Centuries To A Page Diary when I get back Up Above.  Make sure he's housed
in the Barracks with Mary Whitehouse.  Get him peeling carrots.  See if he
gets time to fuck THEN.  If I can't do it, I don't see why every
self-important little bastard should-
A Hello Kitty Pencil Case, then?  I cover myself in pink fluff and draw on a
few blue whiskers.  Give her time, play it cool.

I wait thirty seconds and I go to meet her.




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 +-+       "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper           +-+
 +-+  "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+
 +-+    "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000     +-+
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 +-+               Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut!                +-+
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