Tuesday, February the 3rd, 2004
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The dilapidated walls, the mouldering plaster, the blackened mantel-pieces, the stained and polluted wainscots—under license of a fop! Wrath, wrath immeasurable, unimaginable, unmitigable, burned at my heart like a cancer; the worst had come, among weeds and forgetfulness, the blank treachery of hollowness. A pageant of vapory exhalations; thick clouds and vapours. Hoist by the fop's petard, I could but drool.
Source : Clapped In Irons, Booed In Zincs—Prose Poems by Gervase Beerpint, edited and annotated by Dobson.
Hooting Yard on the Air, September the 30th, 2004 : “A Refutation of Some of the Less Plausible Claims Made by Dennis Cargpan in His Woeful Lecture Delivered From the Balcony of the Civic Hall at Bodger's Spinney on Thursday Last During a Hailstorm to a Gathering of Ingrates and Orphans” (starts around 27:44)