The green alien lowered the diary of Bobby Rewind and stared straight ahead in thought.
The alien’s head had holes where human ears would be and holes where a human nose would be. It had lips like a human that were coloured a slightly lighter shade of green. Its forehead was comparatively larger than a human one in view of the size of its overall face. Its eyes were huge black ovals set diagonally opposite one another. They were furthest away at the top and nearly met at the bottom. Its body, whilst slim, was proportionately humanoid and its fingers were long, many jointed and slender with the tips slightly bulbous. Subtle coiling patterns were faintly visible all over the head and body but since they were all similar shades of green they almost existed on a subliminal level.
It was naked and the faint patterns on its body became more chaotic and accentuated the nearer to its crutch they got. The being had what appeared to be a vagina. There were also small visible breasts with nipples of a slightly darker green and also a small indentation where a human belly button would be. There was no evidence of hair anywhere on the being. As she stood up the alien’s feet (which were almost identical to her hands) stood an inch or so above the ground!
Suddenly there was a gentle flapping noise in the air and the alien looked up. Above her hovered a cherub. This angelic visitation had the body and head of a miniature human adult and small frantic wings that moved at around the same speed as a pair of insect wings. Two small horns grew out of each side of the cherub’s fore-head and his skin was a deep red colour that was a constant shade all over his body. It was Sydny Smith. The green alien grinned.
“Hello alien.” said Sydny.
“Hello Sydny.” said the alien.
“I see you have one of the books Sammy the Pixie has been passing around Eden.” said Sydny.
“It’s good subversive literature!” said the alien enthusiastically.
“Which one is that?” said Sydny as he squatted down next to where the alien sat.
“Relative Rewind.” said the alien.
“Ah….yes. A reasonably undemanding read that one,” said Sydny.
“That’s how I like them. I get a bit impatient with strictly factual books about Earth.” said the alien. She continued…. “I was reading this and wondering why it was that regardless of how abominable they were being the ones central to the story were all wonderful and seemed relatively faultless. That cannot be so.” The alien looked confused when she said this.
“Tell me about it!” said Sydny.
“So what’s the deal?” asked the alien.
“They love adjusting the truth to make themselves more comfortable. Plato the dragon, for example, would find it really unbearable on Earth for any length of time.” said Sydny.
“So this book is all lies.” said the alien.
“No. Within the dimensions and time streams it is set in it is near enough true. It’s just that humans are notorious for editing the facts to suit the views of the editor. It’s one of their biggest problems. They all do it!”
“But what if I want to dig around in the dirt a bit more?” asked the alien.
“This is a Magick book and the reader generally gets what they are looking for. You want the dirt? Just have that in mind when you open it up at random.”
The alien did just that.
“They ain’t shy of a good story those humans!” said Sydny.
“Right....” said the alien, engrossed in the book.
“Don’t you want to read some of this?” asked the alien without looking up.
“Nah. I’ve read it before.” said Sydny. He then looked suddenly shocked…. “That’s it! It all makes sense! The synchronicity between finding you with that book, the fact that it’s the only book of Earth tales I’ve read all the way through and my links with a particular human! That human has got to be the author of that book! It’s Bobby Rewind! I can feel it in my blood!”
“Interesting.” said the alien.
“I’d better get to Rosa’s meeting. It should shed some light on all of this.”
“Alright. You don’t mind if I carry on?” asked the alien.
“Go ahead,” said Sydny. Suddenly the alien glanced up at him. The cherub grinned at him.
“Think we aliens need to be brought in on this Forest of Able thing?” the alien asked.
“Oh you know about that?”
“Yes.”
“Well I reckon we all ought to get involved.”
“Fine and Groovy, Sydny.” replied the alien. “How are things with the Forest?” she asked.
“Bad! Rosa has set up this meeting in order to rally a few folk together!”
“Anything we can do?” asked the alien.
“Yeah. Read a bit more of that book as you take it to Shiva the lioness. It’s hers and she’ll no doubt be wondering where it’s got to. See if any stories relate to our problem here. That’s if that’s alright with you,” said Sydny.
“No that’s O.K. I’ll inform the others of my kind that I will be attending your meeting on their behalf. I shall give Shiva her book at the meeting and between here and there I shall analyse it further. Is that alright with you?” asked the alien.
“Fine. The rest of us will start the meeting right away and we can swap notes when you get there.” replied Sydny.
With that Sydny and the alien both smiled and the cherub flew off towards the blue and orange horizon.
The alien started walking in the same direction that Sydny had flown in and opened the book at a random page with the express intention of finding a way in which to combat the threat to Able. With an uncanny ability for avoiding obstacles en route the alien walked and read.
The alien turned to the next chapter as she wound her way through woodland and forest. She had entered The Forest of Id. She knew of no better place in which to try and unravel links between the book and the problems in Able. Psychoactive energy buzzed and crackled around her. Her feet were still an inch or so off the ground at all times regardless of terrain or gradient. Exotic birds serenaded her as she passed. It seemed that they were conscious of her literary exploration and were delivering a sound-track for her. As she read the title of the next chapter their song became more regular and metallic sounding. Descending and ascending notes slid like sirens and quick, stabbing tweets held their pitch in long bursts of repetition that seemed to be emulating a variety of urban alarm systems. A vague sense of panic had now replaced their previous enthusiasm. The alien briefly looked up towards the leafy canopy above her head and then looked back down at the book.
This is what she read....
“It was a cold morning in Noughtember and the clocks were striking zero. “FFFFZZZZZTSSSSRREEETTZZZZFFFFZZZSSSSTWHEEEEEEESSSSZZZTThis is Airstrip One Radio welcoming you to the last day of the Twentieth Century. In less than 14 hours we enter the new millennium. All glory to Big Brother and the New Nought! FFFFZZZEEEET WHOOOOOEEEEEEndependent Airstrip One Radio will be live in Greenwich Park next to the observatory. Amongst our celebrity stars we have Lord Riff Clichard.”
A hand twisted the knob on a big square wooden radio.
“Why are we celebrating another new millennium now?,” the announcer continued. “You remember there was never really any Year 1000 because they had no zero at that time. For them it was Year M, because M was the Roman number for a thousand. The Arabs then invented the number zero, and that was the start of noughts and numbers and so we could have a year 2000. But that was before the invention of the New Nought, so now two thousand isn’t a millennium year any more and there was all that fuss over nothing. Well, over a two and three nothings! But now, with a New Nothing only onety-twix years later we really have a very special occasion. And we’ll be reporting on it right here on WHOOOOOEEEEEEndependent Airstrip One Radio!”
There was the sound of applause and whooping with joy in the background.
“Now a big hello to all you poor uneducated people on your way to reorientation seminars on the New Nought today,” the announcer said cheerfully. “Learning times tables and mental arithmetic may have been hard enough when you first went to school, now you have to go through it all again, at least if you want to make anything of your new lives.”
Mr Smith always felt depressed when he heard them saying that no adult was ever going to understand it, except the smart-arses who thought it up in the first place that is. Only the little kids now, their brains were just fresh enough to grasp it. Once you get past the deadly age of ten, it was all over. Especially as there wasn’t any number ten any more. Big Brother had got rid of every number with an old zero in it and ten had been the first victim of the New Nought. He still couldn’t remember what ten was in the new system.
That was why the seminars were so important. The New Money came in at the end of the year and then you were on your own with the denominations. No more tenners and twenties. The number after nine used to be nought and carry one. Not any longer, and unless he got this right, that was going to make shopping not just an absolute nightmare, but an expensive disaster. The girls at the checkout could afford to laugh at him on the trial day. Their tills were all New Nought compliant. They didn’t even have to think about the amounts. But he’d had to count out the coins with their strange, twisted hieroglyphs in place of numbers. He found out he’d been over twenty pounds down on the day, by the time everything was reconverted for him.
The instructor of the seminar he went to was a bright young woman with a dazzling smile. She was trying hard not to make this seem like being back at school for the trainees. She was also trying not to think about the official estimate of their chances of understanding anything of the New Nought. It would be hard to carry on if she didn’t.
“Can anyone tell me the New Year in the New Nought Numbers?”
The trainees had thought hard.
“Er, is it Yoda Three Hyper-Zero?” Mr Smith had ventured, uncertainly.
“The first bit is right, the instructor said, brightly. “Has anyone else got the rest of it?”
“Yoda Hyper-Three?”
“You’re so close. Anyone else?”
The room was silent, save from a slight shuffling and quiet pall of defeat. The instructor’s smile never faltered.
“It’s Yoda Zen!” she said. There was no enlightenment in the class. “Now that really will be worth celebrating, won’t it?”
“How long is onety-twix years?” one of the older men at the back asked.
“That’s a good question. Can anyone convert that to the old counting system and tell us the answer?”
No one could.
The Arabs who created the first nought never thought to put a price on it. The New Nought was intellectual property and royalties were demanded every single time it was used on any bank note or calculation. It was “discovered”, as they liked to put it, by Simone Redhurst, that insufferably smug Cambridge teenage chess genius, and the incomprehensible Sufi, Mohammed Khan of the Karachi Excellent Computer Brilliance Company. Big Brother had jumped on the New Nought and had spread it to the rest of the world like a disease. Nowadays you just had to learn something about it no matter how difficult it was because everything was being built using New Nought technology. Binary was finished as it was just noughts and ones. Now there was no ‘nought’, and two distinct kinds of ‘one’ if it came to that.
They used to pretend numbers started at nought and marched away into the distance, all in a row, off to infinity, but always in a single, straight line. The New Nought had set numbers free to move up, or down, get bigger or smaller, in any direction, sometimes at different angles.
It set the numbers free, but it set him in concrete. “I just don’t get it”, Smith thought. “I’ve always felt I was nothing, right? I’ve done nothing, I’ve achieved nothing and I amount to nothing. Now there isn’t even a nothing any more. There is no nothing. Even the nothing I was isn’t there now. What is there for me?”
The old system never had a real value for the square root of minus one. Now this is a whole number, Itchy, but there is also even a cube root of minus nothing, and a special nothing squared.
Being nothing, or thinking you were nothing, that was the easy escape. Being a zero was a way of life, and now it was gone. But then it wasn’t gone, because nothing can be gone. The New Nought meant that there always had to be something... Except you couldn’t even say “nothing can be gone”, now, because there is no “nothing”. “I must remember to stop using that word”, thought Smith, “or I’ll never learn. Do we still have a “never”.”?
Back at his flat he gazed distractedly out of the window. The sound of children at their mid-morning break drifted through to him as a chill wind shook the leaves off the trees by the roadside. “I can have no future, but a tree can never again have no leaves. Does the tree know that its leaves can never really be gone completely?” He looked at the bare branches. You have to believe they are still there. You have to, if you want to learn to love the New Nought.
“Think of sports,” the instructor on the radio was now saying, trying to fire up some enthusiasm no doubt. “Most sports use the old nought. Let’s think of football. The Romans could never have had football because they didn’t have a nought. They couldn’t have “one-nil” until they’d invented “nil”. One man alive and one dead. That’s as close as they could get. See? Inventing nought was a civilising force in sport.”
“So we’re going to go back to Christians and lions now I suppose,” Mr Smith muttered to himself.
“We haven’t gone back, we’ve gone forward. The Romans were ignorant because they hadn’t invented nought. We’re more advanced because we’ve had a nought, and now we’ve gone beyond it. From now on there is no such thing as nothing. Nothing is nothing.” said the radio as if in reply to him.
“So what’s going to happen to football?” Smith asked, confused. “If there’s a draw and it’s nil-nil, then you mean it’s really not a no-score draw?”
“Remember the slogan,” said the announcer, oblivious to his unheard question. “The New Nought redefines the being of nothingness.”
She smiled to herself in the studio, thinking she had reached them with the football metaphor, not knowing she had now destroyed even this avenue of escape.
With a “THUNK” Smith’s hand pushed a button that withdrew the “on” dial. The radio fell silent. His hand picked up the receiver of a big black Bakelite phone, one of the few remaining telephones which still had the old numbers on it. After laboriously dialling a crackle and hiss followed and a voice came through the line.
“Hello?”
“Is Julia Smith there?”
“Yes. This is Julia. Is that you dad?”
“Yes. What’s up? You sound very down.”
“Rolf’s depressed because he and I can’t even hold hands in public now.”
“I wonder that he’s not depressed about this New Nought and this ridiculous new millennium. Shall I meet you by the park?”
“Alright give me thirty minutes.”
“Alright. Love you.”
“Love you.”
Julia replaced the phone. She picked up a black flight jacket and walked towards the door to her small bed-sit. She put her arms in the jacket and eased it over her black rubber body suit. She bent down and tightened the laces on her black military style boots. She then grabbed a tight fitting bowler hat and pushed her red medium length hair up into it as she jiggled it onto her head. She picked up a black plastic filter mask and fitted it over her nose and mouth. She then put on a pair of black leather gloves. She spun round and looked at her room. She then turned towards the door again and set the switch on her electronic burglar alarm. As it started a short sequence of bleeps she put on a pair of black-rimmed goggles, opened the door, walked through and slammed it behind her.
The ten-lane motorway directly outside Julia’s front door was solid with traffic. This was quite a fast moving lane for South London. Every minute or so a section of the jam moved a foot or so forward. As Julia walked along the thin pavement one or two other pedestrians could be seen through the haze of pollution. Seeing as the pavement was only wide enough to accommodate one person at a time those on foot had to step into the road in order to pass one another.
A loud metallic voice stabbed its jagged way out of speakers set at intervals along the perimeter of the road.
“This is a public announcement.
This is a public announcement.
Remember when seat-belts were not compulsory?”
The sound of cars crashing followed this rhetorical question. The voice continued….
“Big Brother’s Government,
sponsored by Agog Goggles Limited,
bring you directive 293.
Goggles must be worn
between the hours of 9 am. and 5 p.m.
Failure to do this
will result in immediate imprisonment.
Protect your eyes.
Big Brother is the Law.”
Anti-glare goggles made everything look like a black and white film. Everything was different shades of grey. Apart from that the glare of this typically bright and hot Noughtember morning gave the pollutive haze an almost glistening quality. Combined with the vision through the mandatory goggles the effect was like some thirties propaganda film that was slightly out of focus.
Julia walked under the Greenwich town fly-over as eight lanes of near stationary traffic sat next to her. There was more traffic perched above her on the entrance to the gigantic Greenwich Bridge. Greenwich Park to her left seemed like a small dot of green imprisoned between huge uniform slabs of concrete and tarmac. Greenwich Observatory sat on its hill like an eye trying to peer through the fog of exhaust fumes.
A man was walking through the monoxide mist towards Julia. He wore a grey trilby hat, grey tortoise shell plastic goggles, a grey nose and mouth filter mask and a long grey over-coat.
“All right dad?” asked Julia.
Mr Smith just stared at her. She grabbed his hand and inspected his gloveless skin. At length she said....
“Have you got your Radon cream on?”
“Yeah I bought some Radon 13 today.”
At that moment a giant advertising video screen clicked into operation as it towered over the motorway and the Smiths. A clean-cut computer generated image of a smiling businessman filled the screen.
“Radon 13!
Available in blueberry,
strawberry and new tangy raspberry flavours.
Your own personal ozone Layer.
Don’t let a ray ruin your day.”
The video screen went blank. The advert was replaced by Big Brother’s Party emblem of a burning book which sat like some veiled threat over the heads of the passing motorists. The emblem had 50th Year written on it. Julia went to kiss her dad on the cheek through her black mask. As she did this she moved her mouth to his ear and whispered.
“I don’t know if I’m going to make any verbal sense; I’ve just had a couple of grams of psylocibe mushrooms.”
Her dad went to kiss her on the cheek through his grey mask. As he did this he moved his mouth to her ear and whispered, “That’s alright Julia I’ve just had a tab of acid.”
The fifth lane nearest the thin pavement on any road stood empty much of the time. This was the police lane. Any other vehicle found in this lane earned its owner a spell in prison.
A sharp screaming sound like a Stuka Dive-Bomber came out of nowhere and abruptly stopped as a police car skidded to a halt next to the Smiths. The police always had their lights flashing these days and had stepped up their diligence in questioning people as to why they were on foot and not in a vehicle. Two officers with black riot helmets, black gas masks and black body armour got out of the car.
“Show us your passes.” one of them ordered.
The Smiths both held out identification cards.
“Why are you on foot?”
“We wanted to sit in the park.” said Julia.
“You need a special pass for that.” boomed the second officer.
Mr Smith produced a second pass.
“This is not good enough. This is a general parks pass. A different law applies to Greenwich Park today. Have you got a Greenwich Park millennium pass?”
They both shook their heads.
“Then you have no reason to be here and you are thus breaking the law.”
Julia spoke “We were going up to Blackheath Common officer.”
“Blackheath Common.”
“Yes.”
One of the cops chuckled and said “My garden’s more of a common than that.”
“I’m sure I don’t know. I’ve never lived in an area with gardens.” said Julia.
“You do know what the pollution rating is on Blackheath Common?” asked one of the cops.
“Yes we do officer.” said Mr. Smith.
“Well then you’re both mad and I see no alternative other than your immediate committal to an institution.”
Julia and her dad ran like buggery. One of the cops pulled out a large revolver and shot four bullets in their direction as they disappeared into the mist. They ran up a thin street separating the wall of a tower block from the high iron railings bordering Greenwich Park. Julia Smith spun round and stopped her dad. “Are you hit?” asked Mr Smith.
“No are you?”
“No.”
“Anyway it’s too late dad. They’ll already have cops at the other end of this alley.”
Sure enough cops could be seen walking towards them from both directions as they peered through the light grey haze.
“We’re fucked.” said Julia.
Suddenly the section of the iron railings they were standing next to started flickering between solidity and non-existence. For a couple of seconds the railings disappeared altogether and Julia shouted “QUICK.” Mr Smith and his daughter ran into the park and the railings immediately returned a split second before the cops reached where the Smiths had been standing. Mr Smith and his daughter had, by now, disappeared into the haze.
“We’d better stay away from where they’re preparing the stage for tonight’s show. The security will shoot us on the spot if we’re found in here.” said Mr Smith.
“What the fuck were the railings doing?” exclaimed Julia.
“Beats me.” replied her dad.
“I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“Well we can’t go back and check it out.” said Mr Smith.
A sudden hissing noise filled the air and the Smiths span round to face the direction the noise came from. Red, blue, purple and yellow tendrils of crackling electricity outlined a shape forming in the gasses of this Greenwich green. The shape solidified and slid gracefully towards them. Below the waist coiled the multi-coloured scales of a giant serpent. Above the waist the creature had the appearance of a tall woman.
The serpent-woman was dressed in the black top hat and red tailed jacket of a circus ring mistress. She held a bullwhip in her black gloved hand. Her skin was pale and her eyes and hair were as black as pitch. As she spoke a black forked tongue darted this way and that…
“Ah yessss the Sssmithsss. You have arrived. Don’t be alarmed. I am Lamia from Eden. I wish to show you some of the wonders of a Magick Theatre. We only have a short time in this park so follow me.”
“Surely you can’t be anything to do with the show in here tonight.” As Julia said this both Mr Smith and his daughter grinned at the shock of it all. Lamia started laughing in a manic and hysterical fashion. When she’d calmed down a bit she spoke.
“Me? Part of the Parliamentary announcement and celebrity performance proposed for this park on this particular evening? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE JOKING!”
“Well that’s a relief.” said Mr Smith.
“How did you know our names?” asked Julia.
“I will explain later. Suffice it to say that if we don’t leave soon you may be attacked by the security in here.”
“I have a sneaking suspicion that that is not a costume you’re wearing.” said Mr Smith.
“You have got it in one Mr Smith.” said Lamia.
She continued…. “The top hat and tails are obviously a costume but as for the rest I am half snake and half woman.”
“And you want us to follow you?” asked Mr Smith.
“Well if you fancy your chances with the security guards then by all means stay.” said Lamia.
“No; you’re alright. I think I trust you more.” said Mr Smith.
“Good. Prepare yourselves. We are about to travel through a multi-dimensional barrier to a Twentieth Century in a parallel dimension. It will be an exhilarating experience but at the same time it will shock you.”
“I’m getting used to shocks.” said Mr Smith.
“One last thing Lamia.” said Julia.
“Yes?”
“Are you anything to do with the LSD my dad has had and the mushrooms I have had?”
“They are some of the factors involved in this probability matrix but then so are these.” With that she twisted around and pointed to two indigo pills in her hand and to where two green figures were standing. Their heads had holes where human ears would be and holes where human noses would be. They had lips like humans that were coloured a slightly lighter shade of green. Their foreheads were comparatively larger than human ones in view of the size of their overall faces. Their eyes were huge black ovals set diagonally opposite one another.
The two beings were not identical. Each set of patterns on each of the creatures were different as they wound their way around the contours of each of their bodies.
“These aliens are what your species may very well evolve into.” said Lamia.
“Time travellers.” exclaimed Julia.
“After a fashion.” said Lamia.
“Far out.” said Mr Smith.
“Anyway; time we left this world today. When we touch down don’t freak out. Just sit and observe your surroundings. We will then subtly discuss what has happened without drawing too much attention to ourselves. I will, by this time, be in human form.”
With that Lamia handed them the pills and they took them. Lamia then cracked her bullwhip in the air and a brilliant light engulfed all five of them.
Julia opened her eyes.
She was sitting in the middle of a crowded park. Four girls walked by all wearing the same T-shirts. They had a yellow sun with two yellow figures dancing either side of it. The figures seemed to be somewhat in awe of this tentacular orb. Underneath them stretched a banner with “YOU CAN’T KILL THE SPIRIT” written on it. Apart from their yellow designs the T-shirts were black and the girls were also wearing black shorts.
An African child was drawing some pictures with coloured felt tips on a table far off to Julia’s right.
A laughing child was peddling a bubble car made out of bright red and yellow plastic.
A teenage girl stood nearby in black flared trousers with red and green stars all over them. Every now and again there was an orange and yellow sun. She had an orange crop top on and was carrying a yellow canvas bag with a blue flower on it. She had long golden hair.
A blackboard nearby had “Children’s Workshop” written in pink and turquoise chalk on it. Below that was a timetable of events which included story telling, dance, percussion and DJ’s. Near that Kids were swinging on a row of boat-swings which accommodated two kids per boat.
A woman in a short orange dress with floral designs on it handed out some more crayons to kids of varying racial origin.
An African Beatnik with small round glasses was explaining some rudimentary philosophical concepts to a five-year-old boy. Behind them some kids played on a yellow and orange bouncy castle.
Lamia spoke…. “Thisss is Deptford in South London. The date is Saturday 29th July in the year that you have learned to call Yoda Zen but which is known here as 1995. The time is 1:30p.m.”
“This is London?” asked Julia in shock.
“It is.” replied Lamia.
“But you can’t see any pollution.” said Mr Smith.
“It is there but not on the scale you understand it.”
“Where are we?” asked Mr Smith.
“In a parallel dimension of Earth that neither of you have known. You may take off your masks. You will find the air surprisingly breathable.”
Julia and her dad took off their masks and stared around in shock. Lamia spoke again.
“You may also take your goggles off here. They are not compulsory in this world.”
Julia and her dad removed their goggles and squinted in the bright sunlight.
“Do not lose your masks and goggles because you may be returning home at some point.” Lamia grinned when she said this.
“What do you mean may?” asked Mr Smith.
“Well that is for you to decide Mr Smith.” said Lamia.
“We have the choice to stay here?” asked Julia.
“You always have a choice.” said Lamia.
“Far out.” said Julia.
Lamia was now in a fully human body and wore a short, pleated, black satin skirt and high laced boots where her serpent body had been. Her tongue still waggled in black forked feverishness whenever she spoke.
“It’s my job to unite the forces from many dimensions and parallel worlds for the task that is to come.”
“What task?” Julia said, slightly worried.
“The final battle against the spectre.” said Lady Lamia, smiling.
“But I’m no good at fighting,” said Mr Smith.
“Battles don’t always mean violence. Don’t worry. Just your being here at all is helping matters very considerably.”
“Where are those aliens we saw before?” asked Mr Smith removing his trilby and overcoat to reveal a bald head, a grey waistcoat and grey shirt.
“The aliens are behind you Mr Smith.” said Lamia.
Mr Smith looked around and there, behind him, sat the two aliens. They were levitating, cross-legged, about five feet or so off the ground. Mr Smith looked about to see if anybody else in the park had noticed them.
“Only we can see them Mr Smith.” said Lamia.
“Can everybody else see us?” he asked.
“Indeed they can.” said Lamia. With that she gestured to one of the four girls in black T-shirts nearby. She gave the girl some coins and procured a program of events.
“DEPTFORD URBAN FREE FESTIVAL NUMBER 6.” she announced.
She then looked at a page that she had picked at random.
Lamia read out a few passages…. “We decided this year to name our main stage in honour of Tom Caldwell who died last Christmas Eve. He was a very special man and one of the many things he did during his life was to fundraise and organise this festival. He was one of the main reasons it exists today. He was someone who gave his time and energy to people and things he believed in and he did this in a way that didn’t involve his own personal gain or ego - people like that are rare and Tom was unique. If we could all be as positive as he was then there is no doubt that the world would be a better place.
He is much loved and sorely missed and HIS SPIRIT LIVES ON! YOU CAN’T KILL THE SPIRIT!
Join us to celebrate the existence of this inspirational individual who has meant so much to this festival at 6:00pm when we hold a minute of noise all across the site. Raise your voices and remember once again -
YOU CAN’T KILL THE SPIRIT!”
Lamia put the program down and grinned at Julia and Mr Smith....
“These are a passionate people. Speaking of passion if you ever get the opportunity go and see a band called The Balloons. You’ll love them.”
Julia smiled at Lamia and thanked her for the information. She then looked round again. Seeing as no two people were dressed the same she did not feel out of place.
To her left and some way off she noticed some clothes stalls and behind them a life-size model space ship made out of plastic and fabric. Near that a black flag blew in the breeze above a shop window dummy with a gas mask on. The T-shirt it had on was a picture of another gas mask and the words “Welcome to the new world order”.
Lamia, Julia and her dad sat amongst hundreds of other people. Some were standing and some were sitting. Some were playing with their dogs and some were lighting up spliffs. Some were drinking from cans and bottles and some were reading their programs. All were members of a multi-racial and multi-generational crowd that shone with brightly coloured clothing and every hair style you could imagine. A variety of marquees, tents, stalls and performance areas were dotted around the park. Julia looked over to some gates and noticed hoards of new people arriving. She swung her head round and noticed a pub called “The Dew Drop Inn”. Folk were sitting and standing outside it with pints of beer in their hands.
She turned and looked in front of her and there stood a large out-door stage with a banner as its back-drop. Red, blue, orange and yellow rays spread out from a red sun. Purple and blue letters wound their way in waves within the suns rays. They spelt “SPIRIT OF TOM” and there was a pink, yellow and white sunflower in the top left-hand corner. Lamia handed Julia and Mr Smith the program and pointed to the centre pages. As they analysed the site map on these pages the Smiths wondered at the size of the event. There were many sound systems. Some of the sound systems had names like The Avit Army, Whoop Whoop, Innervision, R.D.K. and Misbehaviour. On top of this there was the Heart and Soul sound system tent. For live music there was The Spirit Of Tom stage, The South East London Musician’s Collective marquee and stage, The Noise Stage, The Support Your Local Venues and Independent Artists marquee and stage and The Spirit tent and stage.
The Spirit tent and stage represented the local community: the theme of this particular festival. Last year the theme had been disabilities and the year before it had been homelessness. Each year the festival attempted to highlight the needs of an individual group in society. As well as this there was a performance tent, an outside performance area, an acoustic stage, a sculpture area, a healing area, a kids marquee, another sculpture area and row upon row of variegated food and craft stalls and information tents.
There was also an Internet tent as well as bars, portable toilets, skips, a can point, trees, hedgerows and pathways.
Julia looked up and surveyed the rapidly growing number of people that were now weaving their way around these various spectacles. In the middle of it all was a community centre that was decorated permanently with the picture of a giant face made out of coloured bricks and tiles. The face was twenty feet high and, as it looked over a large chunk of the festival site, it seemed comfortable with the company it was keeping.
Lamia lent over.
“It was I that juggled with the space/time co-ordinates of the railings back in your world.”
Julia and her dad looked at their mysterious hostess. Her top hat and tails seemed to suit this environment extremely well. She did not seem to have the bullwhip but Julia thought that since it was obviously a Magickal device it was probably always close at hand.
“So why did you bring us here?” asked Mr Smith.
“To see this.” replied Lamia looking back at the out-door stage. Julia and Mr Smith followed her gaze and saw that a band was walking on.
A man in a police officers cap walked on to the stage. He was wearing a white shirt and black tie. He had a yellow traffic police waistcoat on top of this. He had black trousers and a whistle. A few people in the audience started heckling him and he prowled the stage shouting “SHUT IT!” at periodic intervals. On closer inspection Julia noticed he had lipstick and eyeliner on. Lamia turned to the Smiths and said “That’s The Rustler.”
Then a man sat behind a drum kit on a risen part of the stage. He had a tie-dyed T-shirt on and sported a short beard. Lamia turned to the Smiths and said “That’s Animal.”
Then a 6-foot Anglo-Asian with wild black long hair walked on and plugged in an electric guitar. He was wearing a bright pink mini-dress. He was also wearing ox-blood D.M.’s. Lamia turned to the Smiths and said “That’s Wolf.”
Then a Caucasian bassist walked on and he was wearing a white Ballet Tutu, Doctor Marten boots and false breasts surrounded with purple tinsel and with orange tinsel as nipples. He had orange hair. Lamia turned to the Smith’s and said “That’s Slithey Tove.”
Then a Caucasian trumpet player walked on wearing a full-length red floral dress and patchwork waistcoat. He had boots on and short brown hair. Lamia turned to the Smiths and said “That’s Dylan.”
Then a Caucasian clarinet player walked onto the stage wearing a full-length white embroidered dress with a red British army dress coat over the top. He had long blond hair. Lamia turned to the Smiths and said “That’s Ricardo.”
“How do you know all their names?” asked Julia.
“I’ve observed them before.” said Lamia.
Then a man in a black drape jacket with red lapels, red collar and red pocket and cuff trim walked on in military boots, black denim shorts and a red T-shirt with the words “LAW AND ORDER” written on it. The “A” of “LAW” had a ring around it to denote the Anarchy symbol and the “O” of “ORDER” had eight arrows leading out of it to denote the Chaos symbol. The man wore shades and a red and white peaked cap. Lamia turned to the Smiths and said “That’s Bobby Rewind.”
Bobby got up onto a wooden pulpit. The pulpit was turquoise and had a bright red Chaos symbol in the middle. In the middle of that was a yellow sun. Around the perimeter of the symbol were blue, purple and white tentacular forms that looked like they could have been swimming in water or flying in the air.
Bobby grabbed the microphone and Animal started a slow throbbing beat. Bobby then sung in a church psalm style which meant that he held the same note whilst singing until, that is, he reached the last two words in any sentence where he would drop both words to a lower octave or drop the second to last word and then raise the last word to the octave that began the line of singing.
“Welcome to “Whip The Minister”, the game show for Neurosorockers everywhere.” There was a smattering of applause.
Bobby continued…
“Without any further ado here is Psalm One.”
The drum beat sped up slightly.
Bobby continued…
“Here are the High Priestesses of Repetitive Beats, the Transcendent Earth Warriors known to us here as Sadie Stern and Mrs EEEEE. Welllll thennnnn.” As he sung this last word he split it between a high note, a low note and then a high note again.
Two women jumped out from under a covering that had hitherto concealed their presence on the stage. One was Caucasian and had a brown mini-dress on with gold and silver embroidered wings in concentric patterns down the front. The top went with her red shoulder length hair and her bright blue eyes. She had military boots on and held a Cat O’Nine Tails made out of multi-coloured rope with purple tinsel on the ends. Lamia turned to the Smiths and said “That’s Kazz Khaos.”
The other woman had a tight fitting white lace top and a long pink pleated skirt which every now and then showed a glimpse of the boots she was wearing. She was Asian and had long black hair and carried a Cat O’Nine Tails that was the same as the one Kazz had. Her dark brown eyes expectantly surveyed the large crowd in front of her. Lamia turned to the Smiths and said “That’s Shiva.”
Bobby grabbed the microphone as the two High Priestesses twirled their whips to Animal’s beat.
Bobby pointed at the Priestesses and carried on singing in a psalm like style…
“You are here to provide acts of righteous punishment and exorcism of Satan’s big veiny one.”
He then turned and looked towards the left-hand side of the stage.
At length he carried on singing…
“Now enter Miss World 1999.”
The Priestesses led on another Caucasian woman. She was dressed in a long pink ball gown with a sash around it. On the sash was the title of her role in this bizarre cabaret “Miss World 1999”. Miss World had shoulder length black hair and was slightly taller than the High Priestesses. Bobby grabbed the microphone and carried on his “sermon” from the pulpit…
“Miss World 1999, symbol of oppression towards women and result of debasement through capitalism. You are being punished for your greed at the expense of your gender.”
The Priestesses then started whipping her and wrestled her to the ground. Bobby continued.
“You are being given an Elixir of Transcendence in order for you to exorcise the demons of sexism.”
The Priestesses then lifted a bulbous glass container that was at least twice the size of anybody’s head and Miss World drank some of the green liquid within.
Bobby carried on with his Psalm…
“You are inhaling a modest amount of ‘erb to assist you with your realisation that you are, in fact, an aspect of the Earth Mother.” A giant eight-foot spliff was then produced and Miss World inhaled at the thin end while the Priestesses held it up. Miss World fell to the floor and there was a drum roll crescendo. The Earth Mother then rose to her feet dressed in a grey and fawn mini-dress and D.M.’s. The dress had brown Celtic knot-work along the hem and was off the shoulder with similar patterns around the neckline. The Earth Mother grabbed a microphone and announced… “I AM BORN AGAIN MY CHAINS ARE BROKEN.”
Bobby joined in and asked “Do you denounce the false God Money?” The Earth Mother replied “I DO.”
Bobby then exclaimed “THEN YOU ARE FREEEE.”
The whole band then went into their first number. As a slow build up gave the impression that this was the calm before the storm both the Earth Mother and Bobby sang a mantra:
“You worship your new God and your new God is Money,
Don’t worship your new God and your new God is Money.
You worship your new God and your new God is Money,
Don’t worship your new God and your new God is Money.
You worship your new God and your new God is Money,
Don’t worship your new God and your new God is Money.
You worship your new God and your new God is Money,
Don’t worship your new God and your new God is Money.”
Then the music kicked into a mid-tempo groooove that took the pace up to a dance-friendly Funkadelia in 4/4 time. Everyone on the stage started spinning round and those with instruments swayed this way and that. People started to stand up in the audience so Lamia and the Smiths did the same. The aliens stayed in the lotus position but levitated above the heads of the crowd so they could get a better view of the proceedings. Bobby came down from the pulpit and started singing again:
“Set the scene, we are obscene,
We don’t like the censor’s idea of clean.
We step out, without a doubt,
About the necessity to scream and shout.
Our love is strong, it can’t be wrong,
To confront the back to basics Government swan song.
Chase ‘em hard, it’s your back yard,
Liberate and generate the food for the starved.
The only way that this is done,
Is to make sure we’ve got the free market on the run.
One day I’m sure, they’ll be no war,
And we can all be equal and get down on the floor.”
Then it went back to the mantra again with the Earth Mother joining in on the vocals. Then it hit a mental pace with the drums going at ten to the dozen. Wailing guitar and a percussive bass line were courted by stabs of clarinet and trumpet. Everyone on the stage, jumped around and a few people in the audience joined in. Bobby started singing again:
“I’m living my life from under a rock.
I rarely barely notice when the bailiffs knock.
I only seem to find just one odd sock.
Tick tock tick tock beat the clock.
I’m living my life from under a glass.
We all know the hit parade is a farce,
Continually climbing up its own arse.
If you don’t roll me over you are welcome to stay,
A journey through the mind keeps the do-rights away.
I’m looking at life with my Middle Eye,
When it comes to ingesting we ain’t shy.
We like to give it the big MY OH MY.
We’re very rarely violent and very rarely lie.”
There was an accelerating drum roll and then the whole sound swooped back into the stripped-back mantra:
“You worship your new God and your new God is Money,
Don’t worship your new God and your new God is Money.
You worship your new God and your new God is Money,
Don’t worship your new God and your new God is Money.
You worship your new God and your new God is Money,
Don’t worship your new God and your new God is Money.
You worship your new God and your new God is Money,
Don’t worship your new God and your new God is Money.”
The song ended on a single guitar note that hung in the air like a butterfly that had escaped from its net.
The audience filled the air with applause. Animal carried on his slow rhythm hailing the next round of psalms. Bobby went back up to the pulpit again.
Lamia lent over and said to the Smiths…
“The Earth Mother is one Samantha Style. Did you notice how her singing voice was a lot lower than that of Bobby Rewind?”
“Yes,” said Mr Smith.
“This whole gig gives me an incredible sense of deja vu.” said Julia as she stared at the stage in wonderment.
The High Priestesses led on a city gentleman in a pin-striped suit. He was screaming “BUY. SELL. BUY. SELL. BUY. SELL. BUY. SELL.” into a giant portable phone. In his other hand he had a huge cigar. He was wearing a bowler hat and had a feverish expression on his face.
Bobby started chanting another psalm.
“Mr Capitalist Rat Fuck Son Of A Bitch Pig Bastard. We mean no detriment to the animals mentioned above because you are beneath them. You sold your mother for 35 pence and you are being punished for your own good and because you love it.”
The Priestesses started chasing him around the stage and began whipping him. All the way through this he kept shouting “BUY. SELL. BUY. SELL.” into his portable phone. Bobby resumed his chant.
“You are being given an Elixir Of Transcendence in order for you to exorcise the demons of capitalism.”
The Priestesses then held him and fed him the green liquid out of the enormous bulbous glass bottle. Bobby continued…. “You are inhaling a modest amount of ‘erb to assist you with your realisation that you are, in fact, a druid.”
The Priestesses then held the eight-foot spliff while he pulled on it with enthusiastic inhalations. He then fell to the ground and like Miss World before him he disappeared from view. Whilst shielded by monitor speakers and other audio hardware he underwent a radical change. The first the audience knew about it was when he sprung up seconds later dressed in a long white robe with a huge green, interlocking, five cornered star painted on it. He had dispensed with the bowler hat and was now wearing a tall black pointed one. All around his body he was wrapped in ivy and in his right hand he held a long staff. He grabbed the microphone.
“I AM BORN AGAIN,” he exclaimed. “MY CHAINS ARE BROKEN.”
Bobby then said “Do you denounce the false God Money?”
“I DO.” was the reply and Bobby said “THEN YOU ARE FREEEEEEEE.” A slow Jazz salsa bass line began with an undulating wash of high hat cymbal rhythms. Ascending trumpet and clarinet notes cut in in sets of fours as Bobby descended from the pulpit and started playing his own clarinet in an Arabesque style. The guitar joined in with the bass and Bobby lowered his clarinet, replaced his white cap with a police one and grabbed another mike. The Rustler stood in the opposite corner of the stage from Bobby and periodically bent his legs in a satire of clichéd police body language. The Earth Mother, the Priestesses and the druid started gyrating around the stage and Bobby started to sing in a more Middle Eastern style:
“A tear dribbled down your cheek,
I hope you found that which you seek.
Five spoonfuls of sugar please,
One on another to thrill and tease.
Jesus loves the way you cum,
You liked the way he used his tongue.
She likes her thighs either side of his eyes,
A move the church does not recognise.”
The music became heavier.
“Strange at first but now dilating,
Eyes grow wide anticipating.
Blue trees that once were gold,
With shares it seems our dreams are sold.
Enter Eden’s market garden,
Sold out body don’t beg my pardon.
We here say fuck all that,
Ours is free and theirs is flat.”
The music exploded in a cacophony of loud ascending chords that instigated a wave of hopping and bopping from some of the audience. Bobby carried on singing through this and took his vocal delivery to a screaming affirmation of the band’s Libertarian ideals as he followed the continuing four bar ascent with a repeat of the last line he had just sung:
“Ours is free and theirs is flat.
Ours is free and theirs is flat.
Ours is free and theirs is flat.
Ours is free and theirs is flat.”
The lyrics then mutated.
“Houses free and theirs is flat.
Houses free and theirs is flat.
Houses free and theirs is flat.
Houses free and theirs is flat.
Houses freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Houses freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Houses freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Houses freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”
The music then subsided with a receding sibilance that sounded to Julia like the washing of waves on a sandy beach. A heavy dub bass line kicked in. Within seconds the guitar began a clipped set of staccato riffs. The drums stripped back to a selection of thudding floor tom sounds and ringing rim shots. The two clarinets and trumpet began a series of long cross harmonies as those dancing around the stage slowed to a selection of slow hand movements.
Bobby then lowered his clarinet and started singing in a West Indian Dub style:
“You might call me an ingrate,
Because of the way I get into a state.
You may be talking way too late,
I’ve had a taste of Heaven and it’s fucking great.
From the Witches to the Druids and then the clamp-down,
When pseudo-Christian tyrants built the temperate town.
For hundreds of years we’ve suffered under their yoke,
Now we see their bankruptcy and now they’re broke.”
The music carried on for another few minutes with lead breaks alternating between the guitar, clarinets and trumpet. Then another burst of vocals came in over the top:
“Enter Eden’s market garden,
Sold out body don’t beg my pardon.
We here say fuck all that,
Ours is free and theirs is flat.
Ours is free and theirs is flat.
Ours is free and theirs is flat.
Ours is free and theirs is flat.
Ours is free and theirs is flat.
Houses free and theirs is flat.
Houses free and theirs is flat.
Houses free and theirs is flat.
Houses free and theirs is flat.
Houses freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Houses freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Houses freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Houses freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”
The song ended in a mental crescendo of power chords and drum rolls. When the final cymbal crash ended abruptly as Animal dampened the sound with his feverish hands the audience let out a roar of applause. The druid bowed and left the stage. Lamia turned to the Smiths…. “That was Donald the Druid. He’s actually a druid in real Life.”
The Smiths stared at her in amazement.
Animal resumed his slow accompaniment to Bobby’s next psalm.
“Mr Chief Detective Superintendent Misguided Floating Froth.” As Bobby said this the Rustler stomped around the stage shouting “SSHHUTTTT ITTT!” whilst periodically blowing loudly through his whistle. The Priestesses then chased him around the stage and started whipping him furiously. Bobby carried on from his position behind the pulpit. He had replaced his police hat with a grey/green military cap.
“Mr Detective Chief Superintendent you are being punished for your malign machismo. Too much testosterone kills more brain cells than any other drug. Too much should therefore be banned.”
The Priestesses then grabbed the Rustler and forced the big bulbous bottle into his mouth.
“You are being given an Elixir Of Transcendence in order for you to exorcise the demons of militarism.”
The Priestesses then forced him to his knees and put the giant spliff into his mouth.
“You are inhaling a modest amount of ‘erb to assist you with the realisation that you are, in fact, a transvestite. You love it and there’s nothing wrong with it so come out of the closet.”
The police officer {a.k.a. the Rustler} dropped to the ground and after a period of seconds arose. He was now wearing a black translucent dress and a long blonde wig. He grabbed the microphone and exclaimed…
“I AM BORN AGAIN. MY CHAINS ARE BROKEN.”
“Do you denounce the false God Money?”
“I DO.”
“THEN YOU ARE FREEEEEEEE.”
An up-beat set of descending guitar chords then signalled the beginning of the next song. Bobby came down from the pulpit and put on a bus conductor’s hat with studs along the front. The Earth Mother, the Priestesses and the band twirled about while the transvestite alternated between blasting an air horn and bashing various percussion instruments ranging from a cow bell to a vibrating ball attached to a flexible metal rod attached to a metal base that made a loud clacking noise not unlike the sound of crickets and grass-hoppers.
Bobby started to sing:
“A rushing gleaming embossed mind.
Bodies coil as patterns wind.
So erotic and so kind.
Cross pollination bump and grind.
When freedom’s outlawed we all see,
That only outlaws shall be free.
Our Voodoo Liberation Hex.
Outlaws have excellent sex.
In our moral framework way,
Up through the night and through the day,
We’re close with our telepathy,
Tuned into the dreams we see.
A pumping rhythm, a melody,
A courtship rites reality.
Like a 6 and a 9 and an L and a 7,
I’ve got my tongue in the crack
between the gates of Heaven.”
Every four lines of singing the music went up an octave and then, for the last four lines, descending chords kicked in. After the word “Heaven” everyone on stage grabbed different percussion instruments and followed Animal as he kicked in with a frantic sequence of drum patterns. Tambourine, wooden block, cowbells and whistles all courted a bout of frenetic movement both on stage and in the audience. Bobby put on a gas mask and paced up and down the stage banging out a rhythm on one of the cowbells. After about a minute of percussion everyone stopped suddenly with a four beat cue from Animal. The whole band then shouted:
“GO DO THAT VOODOO THAT YOU DO SO WELL.”
Then the percussion started up again for a further minute. While this was happening Slithey Tove picked up his bass again and began some throbbing twangs. Dylan and Ricardo started blasting random notes through the trumpet and clarinet. Wolf started thrashing random riffs on his guitar and Bobby removed his gas mask. Suddenly another four beat cue from Animal heralded a return to the descending 4/4 melody line.
Bobby started singing again:
“I’ve got my tongue in the crack
between the gates of Heaven.
Like a 6 and a 9 and an L and a 7.
A courtship rites reality.
A pumping rhythm, a melody.
Tuned into the dreams we see.
We’re close with our telepathy.
Up through the night and through the day.
In our moral framework way.
Outlaws have excellent sex.
Our Voodoo Liberation Hex.
Only outlaws can be free.
When freedom’s outlawed we all see.
Cross pollination bump and grind.
So erotic and so kind.
Bodies coil as patterns wind.
A rushing gleaming embossed mind.”
Bobby held the last note and the word “mind” so that he could then ululate in an eastern style sliding vibrato to finish the song off.
Just as the lyrics had been sung in reverse order in the second block of vocals so the instrumentation played the original melody in reverse.
The audience clapped their applause.
Bobby mounted the pulpit again and announced.
“Jesus 1999.” The Priestesses then wheeled an incarnation of Jesus onto the stage. He was crucified on a wooden cross mounted on wheels. Bobby carried on.
“You are being punished for making loads of people feel guilty, even and especially before they’ve done anything wrong.”
The Priestesses then started whipping Jesus as he struggled with his bindings.
“We would like to sexually arouse you so that you may be happy and we may be happy too,” Bobby continued. “Because it’s two-way co-consenting love that we believe in. You are being given an Elixir Of Transcendence in order for you to exorcise the demons of Christianity." The High Priestesses then fed him the green liquid from the huge bulbous bottle. "You are inhaling a modest amount of ‘erb to assist you with your realisation that you are, in fact, Pan the Reveller.”
The High Priestesses then held the eight-foot spliff up to the mouth of Jesus. He inhaled deeply and his bindings fell from his wrists. He dropped to the floor and immediately arose with two green horns growing out of his temples. He spoke…
“I AM BORN AGAIN MY CHAINS ARE BROKEN.”
“Do you denounce the false God Money?”
“I DO.”
“THEN YOU ARE FREEEEE. THE EARTH MOTHER WISHES TO DANCE WITH YOU AGAIN BECAUSE SHE PREFERS YOU THIS WAY.... NO THREAT.”
Lamia turned to the Smiths and said “That’s Rasputeeeen playing the part of Jesuss and Pan.”
The Earth Mother and Pan the Reveller waltzed around the stage as Whip the Minister went into their last number. A chugging and fast paced piece of Psychedelapunkaglammajazzabilly set audience and performers reeling about. Bobby stayed on the pulpit this time and put on a bowler hat. The lyrics to the last song kicked in:
“We are gathered here tonight,
Intense incongruent sight,
Deep in the eyes of each other,
Sister to sister, brother to brother,
Noise pollution is not always sinister,
Because it’s time to Whip! Whip the Minister!
Free Masonry it’s taking some beating,
Thousands of futures ruined in one secret meeting,
Trickle down blood is thicker than oil,
There’s thousands of pots coming to the boil,
Dawn raid on Downing Street hasta la vista,
Because it’s time to Whip! Whip the Minister!
You may squirm dudes, but you can learn quick.
You hang loose prudes, it’s just a trick.
Now you’re no prudes now, see it slide.
Don’t trust the law and bow, let’s take a ride.
Consenting games chum, well that’s OK.
But we are judged dumb, no power play.
Slap my arse miss, my homework’s done.
Then don your wig and gown and hiss and harshly judge
someone.
Their brain’s like a brain that isn’t quite a brain.
Their brain’s like a brain that isn’t quite a brain.
Their brain’s like a brain that isn’t quite a brain.
Their brain’s like a brain that isn’t quite a brain.
Their brain’s like a brain that isn’t quite a brain.
Their brain’s like a brain that isn’t quite a brain.
Their brain’s like a brain that isn’t quite a brain.
Their brain’s like a brain that isn’t quite a brain.”
There was then a mad instrumental with all the performers reaching a new level of dementia. Bobby blew frantically through a long tenor recorder decorated with psychedelic butterflies. The trumpet and clarinet hit the highest notes they could reach and the bass and guitar flew through a series of ascending chords with blistering intensity. Animal looked as if his head was about to explode as he hit a sequence of graduating paradiddles. Suddenly there was a four bar descending set of guitar chords which heralded the last movement:
“Malignant found after perverted poke,
Steven not Spike sure of a joke,
Amyl soaked oranges thrill to the kill,
Bondage abasement but lacking the skill,
M.P. coiled up not into visitors,
The time is right to Whip! Whip the Minister!
Vatican Mafia mixed A.I.D.S. spreading dogma,
Staining their cassocks with juvenile smegma,
Anglican angst puts hypocrisy first,
Islam, Judea, no telling who’s worst,
Guilt is destructive no matter how it hurts ya’,
The time is right to Whip! Whip the Minister!
Quite off the cuff and one off the wrist,
Play with yourself, pornograph pissed,
Everyone at it no need for shame,
Know what I’m saying so give it a name,
Wanking for England, frig `till you blister,
The time is right to Whip! Whip the Minister!
Whipping it up and Whipping it down,
Dance fuckers dance and dance ‘till you drown.
Pump `till it flows, bogey-man timer,
Dance fuckers dance, a ritual mimer,
Whipping it up and stirring still sexier,
The time is right to Whip! Whip the Minister!
The latex rubber costume is safer in our hands,
Whip the Minister! Mrs EEEE, Sadie Stern commands.
Their brain’s like a brain that isn’t quite a brain.
Their brain’s like a brain that isn’t quite a brain.
Their brain’s like a brain that isn’t quite a brain.
Their brain’s like a brain that isn’t quite a brain.
BRAIN. BRAIN. BRAIN. BRAIN. BRAIN. BBBBRRRRAAAAIIIIN.
BBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNN..”
A wall of noise followed this last and most hysterical “BRAIN.” A succession of drum rolls led to a cymbal crash and a set of ascending guitar riffs ending in a loud power chord which ended at the same time as another cymbal crash. As the audience cheered and clapped all the performers chanted a last psalm:
“We were Whip the Minister.
We denounce the unholy trinity of the State,
the Church and the Military.
WWWEEEELLLLL TTTHHEENNNN!”
All the performers bowed and left the stage.
Julia and her dad looked at Lamia.
She turned to face them and spoke…. “So how does all this marry up with your feelings towards your own Government?”
“Well,” Julia replied, “in Airstrip One we are on the verge of nuclear armageddon and it seems that our despotic leaders are not only complacent about the levels of pollution but seem to actively encourage them in order to sell their products.”
Her dad joined in “It seems that we have gone down a path that now requires a greater level of direct action in order to protect our children’s future. With the police employing shoot to kill policies at every twist and turn I can only see one course left to take.”
“And what is that Mr Smith?” asked Lamia.
“Assassination!” he replied.
“Yeah,” Julia said. “We live in a dictatorship, so if the dictator was taken down it may well evoke full scale revolution. This has been an understanding amongst the public for a few years now. The only problem is that it is virtually impossible to get anywhere near Big Brother. He also has the final say over our nuclear strike capability. If anyone got close to him he’d probably start a full-scale nuclear war. Each leader in each nuclear power has now developed identical dictatorial status and enjoys a similar control over the missiles button. The whole planet is now under threat from the fingers of a handful of white, middle aged, middle class, male psychopaths. They keep control by continually threatening to wipe everything out.”
“Have you heard of the Celtic glamour?” asked Lamia.
“No.” replied the Smiths.
“It is the ability to go unseen.” explained Lamia.
“So?” asked Julia.
“If I were to give you the glamour for a limited period of time you could get access to your Big Brother.” said Lamia.
“Wow.” said Julia.
“Mr Smith I think it should be the job of a woman in a patriarchal world such as yours.”
“What should be the job of a woman?” asked Mr Smith.
“Political assassination.” said Lamia.
“Wow.” said Julia.
“Would you do it Julia?” asked Lamia.
“Fuckin’ right I would.”
“What would happen if only one despot was taken out? Surely there would be the threat that the others would take revenge on all the peoples of the world.” said Mr Smith.
“Who said only one despot is to be taken out.” said Lamia.
The Smiths stared at her in shock. Lamia continued…
“Each country involved has an equivalent set of social commentators in this dimension to the ones you have just seen on this stage. Each country has, at present, got allies and those like myself who can transport people from dimension to dimension. Your world is on the very last stages in a build-up towards genocide. We cannot let that happen if we can possibly help it.”
“I’ll do it.” exclaimed Julia.
“Then you will need this.” said Lamia handing Julia a box wrapped in Xmas paper. Julia took off the wrapping and peered inside.
“It’s a gun.” she said closing the box quickly.
“Yes. Your species invented them.”
“Right! Let’s get it over with,” said Julia.
“Put your masks and goggles back on,” said Lamia.
“Where will we materialise?” asked Mr Smith.
“You, Mr Smith, will materialise in your living room just in time for you to open the door to your daughter. Julia will materialise outside of The Palace of Westminster just before the new millenium kicks in. The presence of an evil spectre is preventing me from dropping her inside the palace. This shouldn’t matter as she will not be immediately detected by the spectre if she makes her own way in there. The spectre is not strong enough to combat my Magick and therefore Julia should be safe even if, at the last minute, he does detect her.”
“Can’t I go with Julia instead?”
“No. I can only give the glamour to one of you.”
“Then I will go.” said Mr Smith.
“Your daughter will be perfectly safe, Mr Smith. As I said this is a woman’s job.”
“I am an adult dad.” said Julia.
“Alright. Come straight round to mine when you’ve finished.” said Mr Smith. They hugged each other tightly.
“The glamour will wear off when you knock on your father’s door.” said Lamia.
“What will you and the aliens do while all this is going on?” asked Julia.
“We will be here making as much noise as we can in memory of the late and great Tom Caldwell. The energy here will help power the assassinations. The aliens and I can transfer the energy of this crowd into the Invisibility Spell while you are fulfilling your role. Similar scenarios will be harnessed by others like me in order to assist the other assassins on your world.”
“Well make sure you make some noise.” said Julia.
“Certainly.” replied their hostess. She grinned at them and at length added “Will you be wanting to return to this alternative dimension when you have completed your mission?”
Julia and her dad looked at each other and then turned to Lamia, “Thank you but no.” said Mr Smith. Julia then added, “We have a new world to build in our own dimension. It’s a very nice offer though.”
“Are you ready?” asked Lamia.
“Yes.” replied the Smiths.
Lamia produced the bullwhip and cracked it in the air and a brilliant light engulfed them.
Julia opened her eyes.
She was standing outside the Houses of Parliament. It was after dark and neon tubes illuminated the whole building. Machine gun nests loomed ominously on the rooftops and armed guards stood at intervals all along the building’s baroque walls. Huge speakers stood at intervals along the eight-lane motorway that skirted the electric fence that surrounded the building that was the seat of government in Airstrip One.
The road-side speakers crackled into activity.
“Here are some fashion tips for the festive season.
For those of you brave enough
to challenge the stratosphere
we’ve got lead-lined bikini bottoms
and the bronco scurf and loose skin hoover
for those of you that have forgotten that
Ray Ray Ray Ray Raydon 13.
All virtual plastic welcome at all virtual stores
such as virtual Sparks and Mensas,
virtual Duck Monalds,
virtual Trescos,
Wasdas and Wanksburies.”
The speakers crackled for a bit and then formed another voice..
“This is Airstrip One Radio welcoming you to the last day of the Onety-Twenth Dentury. In less than five minutes we enter the new millennium.”
Julia looked through her goggles in shock at the lack of response that this elicited from the traffic jam. The speakers crackled again and then formed the insistent tone of another advertising voice. As it delivered its package there was a background noise of hundreds of screaming babies.
“Is little Johnny wheezing?
Is little Suzie coughing up black goo?
Then you need the new improved super airtight,
decorative, Rubberthon Gas Masks
for the under-fives.
We’ve got Mickies, Minnies, Bugsies, Tweeties,
and for the slow developers,
Mighty Morphines.
Available at all good post-natal clinics.
Your medical gift vouchers are acceptable.
One coupon per purchase.”
Julia noticed some guards opening the gates to the concrete parliamentary forecourt. She ran through the gates just before they swung shut. None of the guards could see her. She followed them into the Houses themselves and none of the security systems registered her presence. She walked along the corridor that led to Big Brother’s office. She stood outside of the door to the office and heard his voice through a thin mail slit that had been left open. She peered through it and caught a split second glimpse of Big Brother sitting on his office chair. Behind him there seemed to be a spectral form in a black cloak that loomed over Big Brother’s head. She dismissed the image and put it down to the product of her stressed imagination.
“This is Big Brother of Airstrip One. I am on Def-Com 5 and wish to confirm that all world leaders are ready to go. Press your final communication switches and give me an indication of who is ready. Good. You are all ready. On the stroke of midnight we will make history gentlemen.”
At that moment the Houses of Parliament started to sink into the ground as hidden hydraulic systems began to creak and shudder. People got out of their cars in shock as the whole building began to slowly disappear into the ground. Operation Ostrich had begun. Over thirty years of covert adaptation was now being witnessed for the first time. Years of science and engineering had altered the foundations underneath The Palace of Westminster. It was now retreating into the bowls of the earth as a ministerial shelter for the rich and powerful.
Julia could feel and hear that something extreme was happening to the building but strengthened her resolve and turned the handle on the door to Big Brother’s chamber. She could hear Big Ben in the distance. The succession of chimes leading up to the beginning of the new millennium had begun. Big Brother started ranting.
“The war-heads are all primed and ready. My finger is on the button. TELL ME WHEN LORD. TELL ME WHEN.”
The chimes were now on five. Julia opened the door and was surprised to find it unlocked.
Sensing the presence of Lamia’s Magick the spectre of The Stock Eggs Change vanished in a flash.
On six, Big Brother looked up.
At the stroke of seven Julia took the gun out of the box.
At eight Big Brother shouted “Who goes there?”
On nine, the tip of Big Ben slowly disappeared below ground as guards stopped hundreds of people at gunpoint from nearing the site where Parliament used to be.
On ten a giant lead and concrete surface started sliding over the hole that Parliament had disappeared into.
On eleven Big Brother screamed “WHO DARES DISTURB ME?”
On twelve Julia shouted “ME!” and held the gun to Big Brother’s head.
As the first second of their new millennium kicked in Julia pulled the trigger and blew Big Brother’s head away from his shoulders and his body away from the button on which his finger rested.
His corpse hit the floor on the second second and the remains of his head sprayed up a nearby wall.
With the third and fourth seconds silence filled the room.
Julia walked out into the corridor and closed the door behind her.
After Julia had left the corridor a lock mysteriously clicked into place just before guards arrived to investigate the sound of the gunshot. They could not get into Big Brother’s chamber and when they shouted out to their leader there was no response.
Back at Fordham Park Festival, Lamia put a small model of Big Brother’s chamber door back into the pocket of her red tailcoat. All around her people were shouting and cheering in memory of Tom Caldwell. It was now 6pm at the festival. Lamia and the aliens joined in with big grins on their faces.
One of the aliens bent her mouth to Lamia’s ear....
“Very good Lamia. The Spirit of Tom and the energy generated by these people in their respect for him gave us the opportunity to help in the prevention of nuclear holocaust in the world of Airstrip One. Our species is communally grateful for your skills in multi-dimensional energy redistribution.”
“That’s OK alien. Thanks for your help too but I think at the end of the day it is these people who we should be thanking.” Lamia gestured to the cheering thousands around her as she said this. “We must cheer Tom again and this time do it on behalf of the Smiths.” With that the aliens and Lamia joined in the minute of noise once more.
“FFFFZZZZZTSSRREEETTZZZZFFFFZZZSSTWHEEEEEEESSZZZTTTThis is Airstrip One Radio welcoming you to the first day of the millennium of the New Nought. It seems that nuclear holocaust was prevented last night by the most incredible series of political assassinations the world has ever known. On the stroke of midnight, eight major world leaders were shot dead by eight unknown assassins. Various guards and officials claim to have heard women’s voices in the chambers of some of those killed. It is believed that an international group of female guerrillas were responsible. Immediate disclosures as to the deceased leader’s plans for nuclear war have instigated what can only be described as immediate public outrage. Parliament resurfaced after its shocking disappearance last night. This was immediately followed by a mass public occupation of the building with ministerial guards leaderless and confused. Their guns were taken off them and many have been imprisoned in the Tower of London. Similar scenes have been witnessed in every major country in the world. Stay tuned for a continual up-date of the news. Remember the revolution is being televised.”
Julia swung around from the radio and faced her dad.
“Lamia and her friends were obviously programming other assassins in the other nuclear powers. Their timing was unbelievable.”
“Well,” said Mr Smith, “We owe a debt of gratitude to them. It does all seem unbelievable though. I have no idea how we are ever going to convince the rest of the world that you were involved in the assassination of the leader of Airstrip One. I’m not even sure we should. As for our multi-dimensional journey I still half believe we must have dreamt it all.”
“Maybe we did.” said Julia.
With that Mr Smith hurriedly went through his pockets and pulled something out from the inside of his overcoat. It was the program from the festival. They both stared at it and grinned.”
The alien closed the book called “Relative Rewind” and left The Forest of Id.