Hello. I’ve been working very, very hard editing a new article from the Stile. Please sit tight as I get that ready. I’ve written a note for you below. It’s an exact transcript of my thoughts as I travelled between floors 4 and 17 of my apartment building. I have a great, great memory. A monumental memory. That’s that.
They told me that time is a dimension of its own. What? Huh? Hey, can someone help? I’m really not sure what’s going on.
Five minutes can feel like thirty when you’re up here. Huh? How does that even work? I’ve just been sick. I’m not designed for this. Thanks. I will die soon. Pretty painfully too I think. Probably faster than usual going by this maths. What? Huh? Hey. HEY! HEY! WHAT’S GOING ON? WHAT’S GOIN–
I went to see a 4D movie once. The fourth dimension was smell. Smell? What? Huh? I never went back to the theme park again.
Knock knock. Who’s there? What’s going on? Where in the world are you? What’s happening? Why is there no one at this door? What’s going on? Where in the world are you? What’s happening? Why is there no one at this door? Who? What’s going on? Where in the world are you? What’s happening? Why is there no one at this door? What? Huh?
It’s quite scary, this. If you think about it for a second.
“IN THE ROOM THE WOMEN COME AND GO… TALKING OF MICHELANGELO.”
Eat a peach. Fuck a mermaid. Teach a clown a lesson. Wear white flannel trousers. Lick a toad. Kiss a prince. A prince like me. Write your dog a letter. I used to be a pair of claws scuttling across the floors of ocean seas.
You, my love, need to wake up. Your reverie has gone on for far too long, and the church bells are ringing now. The aisle beckons, darling. You walk on, and walk up, like a movie star, and the audience hoot and holler, and you take your bows, and it’s done. The show is over and the lights go down, and then, and then, you sleep again. I bathed my first-born in blood, and look where it got me. My name has 6 letters in it. You know what else has 6 letters in it? The top drawer in your mother’s bedside table, and they’re all from me.
My Top 10 Movie Kisses
Me and Martha Didd in the carpark of Tonbridge town.
I took my first ever girlfriend to the cinema in the small town where I grew up. It was only a small place. Two screens and two types of popcorn. The big screen showed all the Hollywood movies we’d stare at on the sides of buses, with the other one looking after a cycle of B-list stuff curated by the young guy who got a job pouring coffees on a summer back from university. It was the big screen I wanted to take her to. The big screen was on the upper floor with a staircase wide enough to make that fact seem special. Golden bannisters and red carpeted stairs. Posters from movies we knew were old because they had more writing on than the rest of them, the colours slightly faded, the characters always embracing. I can’t remember the film we watched. But I remember the staircase, the grand staircase, nerves in the stomach rising with each step, her hand softly within mine, palms half-touching, our eyes preferring the safety of watching foot after foot going up the red carpeted staircase with gold bannisters, up towards the oak double-doors of screen number one where we knew we would kiss for the first time and then look at each other at last, in the soft light of the projector, kiss each other for the first time and look at each other the way we would look at each other for the rest of our lives.
NOT THE NOTEBOOK. I HATE THAT ONE. TOO MUCH RAIN OUTSIDE.
“Here’s looking at you kid.” That’s what he says in the film Casablanca before he kisses her. I watched that film with my girlfriend Jess Olivier and she said that she “likes the way they talk in old Hollywood movies” and Jesus Christ I mean the way I hit her you wouldn’t believe, you just wouldn’t believe it. OOSH! Just like that. She was fucking Jake Paul and I was the other one. They used to call me the Nuke back in primary school after what I did to Jack Peeper with my left hand. And I hit her with my right!
Rick and Morty.
Gay Spiderman kissing Gay Iron Man.
The humans in Tom and Jerry (off camera). YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENS OFF-CAMERA, YOU DON’T KNOW.
A piping hot cup of cocoa on the lips of the one you love most.
The big sloppy one between the mother and son in the John Lewis ad. She buys him a lovely present for Christmas and he kisses her, with tongue, for absolutely ages. Don’t you just love it?
Me and you. I love you!
Top 5 Legs
Left
Right
Middle ;)
Akimbo
Not sure
It’s really good to have them at least
11
Some of My Favourite Cuts From the Weasel Detective Series
- Weasel Detective and the Case of the Missing Phonebook - The Night of the Slugs - Weasel Detective: Origins - Weasel Detective and the Case of the Unsolvable Case - Weasel Five-O - Weasel Detective, Forever - Weasel Detective, Again - Just In Time For Weasel Detective - Weasel Detective: Never Dunk Twice - Easel Detective and the Art Thief - Weasel Detective: Death Row - Weasel Detective 2085 - W for Weasel - The Man from W.E.A.S.E.L. - The Weasel of Baskerville - No Time To Snack - Weasel Detective: Multiverse - Weaselverse 2 - Quantum of Unsolicited Pictures of Your Wife: A Weasel Detective Story - Wea5el - The Weasel in Black
The Editor’s Favourite Things: A Collection
Top Trumps. FARTS, NOT CARDS. THESE AREN’T PLAYING CARDS. I LIKE GREAT FARTS.
In days of old, when nights were cold, and condoms weren’t invented… men put socks upon their cocks and babies were prevented.
Diet Pepsi served in a vase. No ice.
Louis Armstrong’s cheeks (face).
Epic fails!
Trampolines in shapes that aren’t what you’d usually expect from a trampoline which makes it way more exciting even though you jump around just the same as always. I can do seven flips in a row before being sick. What can you do?
Spending an evening in with the wife, baking a little custard tart, putting your feet up, sticking some ‘Slow Horses’ on the TV, nibbling away. That Gary Oldman is good isn’t he? He can do just about anything. I loved him in Leon. What’s Leon? Oh my god, haven’t you seen Leon? Leon the Professional. Are you telling me you haven’t seen it. I’ve been married to you for how many years DON’T TELL ME and we’ve never discussed this? I bloody love that movie. Shall we stick it on? One second, let me get my– yep, it’s on Prime. We do have Prime, we’ve got a subscription. Yes. Yes we do. Yeah because I got Thomas’ Christmas presents delivered yesterday and I only ordered them on Friday. How would I do that without Prime? No, it was free delivery. Look I’ll show you– see? We’ve got it. Let’s put it on. Let’s put on the film. *Two hours later* THE FILM DOESN’T SEXUALISE A YOUNG KID. THAT’S THE CHARACTER. IT’S A CHARACTER, IT’S ABOUT COMING OF AGE. OH FUCK OFF THAT’S NOT WHY I LIKE IT. JESUS JUNE. FUCKING JESUS. NO IT’S ALWAYS WITH THIS. SHE WAS TWENTY-ONE. TWEN. TEE. WUN. Twenewun. DON’T JOKE! THIS IS SERIOUS. GOD, FUC— YOU DEMON BITCH!
Beheading videos.
Vanilla ice-cream.
Sharks, upside down.
Boobies.
No hay banda. Il n’y a pas une orchestre. It’s all an illusion. Your mum is my wife.
It was the winter of 1989 and I was alone. I blinked and now I am here. Alone, once again. Ringmaster. Ringmaster. Ringmaster. Why are your cheeks so soft and damp? These are tears, my child. These are tears.
All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss. All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss. All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss. All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss. All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss. All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss. All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss. All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss. All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss. All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss. All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss. All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss. All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss. All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss. All work and no play makes Mister a dull boss.
CANNONNBALLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!
Best,
Mister