Friday, September the 30th, 2005
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The publishing world is agog, or so I'm told, at the news that legendary poet Dennis Beerpint has written a new work. O Little Earthenware Jug is a deceptively deceptive poem, a bit too long for some critics, and “too bloody short” according to the anonymous writer on the Beerpintblog. I wanted to be able to include an extract here, but permission was not granted. Instead, here is the correspondence:
Dear Agent For The Poet Dennis Beerpint : I would like to include an extract from Dennis Beerpint's new poem, O Little Earthenware Jug, on my website. Please email me the text as a matter of urgency. Regards, Frank Key
Dear Frank Key : The poet Dennis Beerpint is neurasthenic, rake-thin, and a bed-wetter. He has been off his food for days, and is subsisting on radishes and diluted tap water. Every time I try to discuss O Little Earthenware Jug with him, he bursts into tears, rends his blankets, and takes on the appearance of a frightened weasel. That Salman Rushdie person came round the other day, and Dennis threw things at him from the top of the stairs—pieces of cardboard, ping pong balls, a scrunched-up map of the local Tesco's car park, all sorts. I tried to get him to see a doctor—Dennis, that is, not Mr Rushdie—but he locked himself in his room and started bashing out ungodly songs on his Moog synthesiser. Incidentally, Dennis is one of the few people who pronounces it correctly, as Mogue, to rhyme with Kylie Minogue. In any event, at the moment it's simply out of the question for you or anybody to wrest even a single line of the poem from this troubled genius—Dennis, that is, not Mr Rushdie or Mr Moog. In any case, Mr Moog died a little while ago. Yours sincerely, Kwoon Lip Park, Agent For The Poet Dennis Beerpint
Dear Kwoon Lip Park : Couldn't you just sneak into his room while he's not looking and pinch a copy of O Little Earthenware Jug off his desk? Regards, Frank Key
Dear Frank : No I could not, for I am spineless. Kwoon