Sunday, January 08, 2006


Amoxicillin 500mg, twice a day.

Ciprofloxacin 250mg, twice a day.

Prochlorperazine Buccal 3mg, two, twice a day.

Fusidic Acid cream, twice a day.

Biocare one-a-day vitamins plus bilberry-derived anti-oxidants.

Water, satsumas, apples.

Co-op cream-crackers, Branston pickle.

Organic Pea Soup from Ceres, Yeovil.


"Am I Normal? (Extended Disco Mix)" by David (Stiletto Records/RCA, 1983)

"Ritmo De La Noche" by Mystic (Fanfare Records, 1990)

"Magic Holiday" by Cherry (Sublime Records, 1989)


"Exorcism" - Jesse Franco (1974)

"Assault on Precinct 13" - John Carpenter (1976)

"The One-Armed Swordsmen" - Shaw Brothers (1976)

"Shaolin Invincible Sticks" - Lee Tso-nam (1979)


The Dedalus Book of Austrian Fantasy (1890-2000) - edited by Mike Mitchell.

Currently convalescing, as they say, in an exclusive luxury Spa somewhere in the Cotswolds where all the nurses look like Cheryl Ladd and, er, Rula Lenska back when she was in "Rock Follies". (No, I haven't been watching bloody Celebrity Big Brother!) Just reading the paper is exhausting, and a 100yd walk down the corner-shop feels like an major Arctic expedition.

Many thanks to the thousands of fans and wellwishers who have supported me thru this difficult time...I can honestly say that I have been completely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of letters, postcards, faxes and telegrams I have recieved wishing me a speedy recovery, though I am somewhat disappointed that our ageing Willie Lumpkin lookalike of a postman has decided to go private for his hernia operation.

Obviously, the media has been rife with speculation that my playboy life-style had finally caught up with me, but I can assure you all that, unlike Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx, this is not the case. Stress and overwork due to my career and/or exploits as an award-winning Neuro-Noir novelist/Ethnobotanist/Underground Film-maker/Psychedelic Diarist/Occult Journalist/Anarchist Puppeteer/Post-Neo-Abstractionist painter/Amateur Detective/Surrealist Gardener/(delete as applicable) were not contributing factors to my illness either, despite what some of the tabloids have been saying.

Rather, it appears that my illness was most likely a reoccurance of an old tropical infection that I picked up in Pelucidar some years back. Mind you, there was also that strange purple vapour I inhaled when Professor Ramsey Barker's laboratory beneath the Thames caught fire in the last few minutes of our desperate struggle. That couldn't have been good for my constitution. Long-term readers will remember Barker (aka "The Wandsworth Poisoner") and his noxious toxins from my July, 1954 casebook. Ah, and there was also that blowdart tipped with Red Cobra venom that caught me in the neck during my adventures among the Hidden Tribes of Plateau X...

Hmm. Perhaps we'll never know for sure.

Still, like my fellow social drinker Charles Kennedy, I have also been a victim of a devious conspiracy: some of the beardy, young Maoist and Militant Tendency types that attend meetings of The South Somerset Henry Cow Appreciation Society attempted a bloody coup while I was confined to my sick-bed, claiming that I was, in fact, a closet "Vanny" (A Van Der Graaf Generator fan, in non-Prog layman's terms) and was no longer fit to serve as President of the SSHCAS. I am pleased to report this half-arsed yoof rebellion has been crushed by the righteous iron fist of middle-aged indignation, and the offenders have been issued an official Art Bears Warning.

I mean, sure, I like a bit of VDGG now and again, BUT IT'S NOT A FUCKING PROBLEM, OKAAAAY!!!?