#writing mark-wackjob.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/the-bomb-hoax.html The Bomb Hoax. I was thinking of relating the anecdote of an idea, enlightening, and thinking got me to saying the idea, if it is such, that you have nothing to fear from Fill in the blank or similar if you are innocent? Innocent of what? Not born in guilt our birth right, a fatted prelapsarian? Innocent: cleared of guilt and when? In the anecdote a young man at university writes an acrostic to FRELIMO on the fly of his A4 and on walking from the library he bumps into a suspected bomb (of an unknown technical specification but needing a phone call by means of introduction) cwtched in the nethers of Woolworths. His way home is barred by a hoax so he waits curious and piously quiet. His curiosity has only this week been retrieved from a cat that taking it without his permission had deposited it with a Prof. Spooner specialist in medieval coinage. Under a statue (for erudition’s sake by Raffaelle Monti) of Castlereagh, 3rd Marquess of Londonderry he sits. From a panda car a man by no means a mini seems to metamorph his size too big for the dress hes in. Castlereagh consents to this sitting by the young man and young woman to whom the student has become amoured and though I thought her to smile at him I found her to be laughing at the fat man earwigging. Reeking of brutality. Whose little piggy eyes in his little piggy head bobbled up and down the acrostic. The mother lode. Well down comes the hazard tape and it’s time for the taps of the Horse& and off stage over the cobbles the young man becomes engorged with the polyester of the shop assistants face. An apocryphal five minutes beyond this time this place hes dancing past his favourite table of provender when the alarm of a police car panics the air and then one, two, and it is the third that stops. Like an army thrown out of a plane they disgorged upon him his face smashed into a meal of cheap bolognaise. His favourite coat saved from the sauce by the window frontage. She was on secondment from the RUC to spice it up with those northern boys, took his passport from an inside pocket and voiced her next line to nodding heads he could now see in the reflection of the restaurant’s theatre. No doubt there was no doubt there is this was evidence bold as brass of his guilt. How convenient she says and yes it is evidence necessary for cashing checks: Identity. Waking twelve hours on to the gate crashing of his sleep he opens the door to caffeined up plod in Chanel if hes not mistaken. He isnt holding his teddy bear. Terrorists rarely in his experience do. Past he who has not had breakfast they muster and blister with the wisdom of their eyes the words on the books and with the hermeneutic of a doctor of divinity declare him first amongst innocents and leave through the door doer he is not and a relief to all who knew he had nothing to fear but fear...
Posted on: Tue, 15 Oct 2013 09:22:15 +0000
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