Saturday 1 October 2011

Meagre Front

Not every speaker on that corner of Hyde Park could claim such pedigree as William S. Simpson. Born of a wrestler and of royalty he was blessed with power and bearing. No straighter back in all Knightsbridge. He was also gifted with a rare charisma; rare, that is, down his bloodline. The Simpsons traditionally bought in their personality while the Craddocks spoke in action.

"I met a girl" was how, typically, his monologues began. This would be followed by a brief summary of the wooing process or 'preliminaries', not in a country and western way of course; his monologues were unambiguously about William S. Simpson, every girl a MacGuffin.

The preliminaries successful, a flaw in the situation would be rapidly revealed and a future terminated, William S. Simpson to emerge wiser and stronger. A monologue might end:

"When wit alone remains, the devil has taken the reigns. One must wrestle them back."

"Far be it for me to pander, ever."

"Slander may be smuggled."

"When a throne is proffered, one must sit or request a better throne."

William S. Simpson stood alone on an upturned milk crate decorated with the faded stickers of long forgotten bands with names like Sucker, Children of Mother and Collapse. His hands were clasped behind his back and his eyes angled above the skyline of Park Lane

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