After reading The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy I was deeply depressed to think that someone had been tapping into my subconscious mind and then draining my imagination.

After Douglas Adams had passed into the netherworld the loudest of the voices in my head disappeared. During that time I experienced a long period of calm sobriety until I began to drink heavily again and the voice then came rushing back. At first it was just my name whispered from behind on a busy crowded rush hour sidewalk. Turning around to see only the irritated faces that were forced to flow around a piece of debris in a river of lost tumbling souls. I began discovering writing utensils in my hand that I had unconsciously nicked from bank counters with which I had no affiliated connections. In cafés my finger would scribble madly indecipherable words on table tops. I was opening microwave doors leaving 42 seconds each time.

So after three years now I feel as though I have been rowing as a slave chained deep below inside a rancid foul Ancient Greek war ship, rarely fed, flogged frequently. Yes here with a sharp dagger point thrust upon my cheek I was forced to finish this cheap, thin, overpriced paperback novel of which I have not yet seen a single penny. Gratefully this morning my fever has broken and the voice behind the blade, which turned out to be a feather poking through my pillow, has gone away.

Still I have been having strong uncomfortable sensations that someone is laying beside me at night snoring heavily and stealing the blankets.

Sir Neddy Seagoon. 1896-2008

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Neddy Seagoon

27.04.20 Front Page

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