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| 01: 4
02: Come To Daddy
03: Avril 14th
04: Girl/Boy Song
05: Steppingfilter 101
06: Flim
07: To Cure A Weakling Child (Contour Regard)
08: Mt St. Michel
09: Ventolin
10: At The Heart Of It All
Hey, so I'm a rock star. We're gigging Leeds, Nottingham, Edinburgh, London. There's something amazing about following your life long dream and doing it well. Very well.
Dubmonkey be with you...
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| He was hanging half inside the room, half out.
"Sir..." He began, and stopped as Mr Purves looked up with a start.
"George! Good afternoon."
"You, you wanted to see me, sir?" Asked George, his face betraying a slight touch of apprehension.
Mr Purves looked a little confused for a second, then it dawned on him, "Ah, yes! Please come in, take a seat."
George's polished shoes squeaked as he slowly walked along the clean, soft carpet. The office was pristine; Not a mark or scratch on anything, all surfaces were gleaming with a sheen that comes only from a daily cleaning ritual. There was a picture of a ship in a storm out at sea, several potted plants, and right at the end was a huge Mahogany desk, behind which sat Mr Purves, who was in the process of preparing and lighting a cigar. George pulled out a soft leather chair from under the desk and sat down.
"Cigar?" Offered Mr Purves.
"Well, I..."
"They're Cuban!" Interrupted Mr Purves.
"No thank you, I don't smoke, sir." Said George.
"Good man! These things'll knock years off your life, turn your lungs black." The air of small talk lifted as Mr Purves put on a more serious tone, "Tell me, George. How long have you been working for me?"
"Well it must be about... 7 years. Yes, 7 years."
"Ah yes! But still a young man, I daresay!"
"Yes, well, I turn 29 this year, sir."
Mr Purves smiled. "And no doubt you get up to some capers, don't you, my boy!"
"Well, I... I'm not much of a partier, I do like a quiet evening in and..." George trailed off as Mr Purves interrupted him.
"You know," Began Mr Purves, getting up out of his chair, and wistfully walking around his office, cigar in hand, seemingly studying his bookshelves, "I was a bit of a hell raiser like you when I was a young man, George. Yes, I know, hard to believe, isn't it! I was a raver; a partier. I did it all, sex, drugs, rock and roll. The women were flying at me from all angles, the drugs were flowing. But I left all of that behind, to pursue a simple life, a life dedicated to chastity, honesty, sobriety, and business." He returned to his seat, and sat down once more.
"But. There is something I still do from time to time. A hangover from my errant youth." He stopped, and stared at George for a few seconds.
"Oh, uh, yes?" Mumbled George, who had become increasingly aware of Mr Purves' apparent drunkenness.
Mr Purves sat and smiled, silently nodding his head.
"Benelux." He said, then continued, "Have you ever heard of Benelux, George?"
George thought for a few seconds. "Sir, are you perhaps referring to the now informal trading partnership between Belgium, The Netherlands and Luxembourg, established in September 1944, that facilitated easy pooling of the three countries resources and monetary wealth?"
"No." Replied Mr Purves, "No, that is indeed one meaning of the word. But there is another. What I am referring to is the solution known as Benelux Solution."
George frowned, his knowledge conflicting with that of Mr Purves.
"Sir, surely you are confusing this with Benedict's Solution, sometimes called 'Benedict's Reagent,' a chemical solution comprised of a mixture of sodium carbonate, sodium citrate and copper sulphate, used to detect reducing sugars or monosaccharides in food. It can also be used to detect the presence of glucose in urine as a way of diagnosing diabetes mellitus. Interestingly, the solution can sometimes produce an incorrect result when confronted with sucrose. Sucrose, which is commonly referred to as table sugar, in fact actually contains two sugars (fructose and glucose) joined by their glycosidic bond in such a way as to prevent the glucose isomerizing to aldehyde, or the
fructose to alpha-hydroxy-ketone form. Sucrose is thus a non-reducing
sugar which does not react with Benedict's reagent. Sucrose indirectly
produces a positive result with Benedict's reagent if heated with
dilute hydrochloric acid prior to the test, although after this
treatment it is no longer sucrose. Surely, you are not referring to such a solution?"
"No. For such a solution would kill a man, if taken intravenously. I am talking of Benelux Solution, a concoction 14 times more potent than amphetamines and 3,000 times as addictive as heroin. It is the only drug I still indulge in."
"Up until a few years ago, I was able to take this drug on a whim. But, my hands are old, and frail. I can no longer operate the plunger."
George suddenly noticed a syringe on a shiny metal plate on the desk.
"Usually I would get Rosalind, my P.A to help with administering the Benelux, but she has gone to Mablethorpe for a holiday. I had to find someone I trusted to dose me. This is why I chose you, George."
"I'm sorry sir, I don't quite follow what you're..."
"The needle is ready." Mr Purves began rolling up his sleeves, slowly.
"Come. Inject me."
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| So here's the plan:
The ides of march are always at hand. And when the power hungry strike,
they strike the poorest of man. And if you dare put up a fight, they'll
come and fight for your land. And they'll call it liberation or
salvation. A call to the youth! Your freedom ain't so free, it's just
loose. but the power of your voice could redirect every truth. Shift
and shape the world you want and keep your fears in a noose. Let them
dangle from a banner star spangled. I'm willing and able. To lift my
dreams up out of their cradle. Nurse and nurture my ideals 'til they're
much more than a fable. I can be all I can be and do much more than I'm
paid to. And I won't be a slave to what authorities say do. My desire
is to live within a nation on fire, where creative passions burn and
raise the stakes ever higher. Where no person is addicted top some
twisted supplier who promotes the sort of freedom sold to the highest
buyer. We demand a truth naturally at one with the land, not a plant
that photosynthesizes bombs on demand, or a search for any weapons we
let fall from our hands. I got beats and a plan. I'm gonna do what I
can. And what you do is question everything they say do, every goal
ideal or value they keep pushing on you. If they ask you to believe it
question whether it's true. If they ask you to achieve, is it for them
or for you. You're the one they're asking to go carry a gun. Warfare
ain't humanitarian. You're scaring me, son! Why not fight to feed the
homeless, jobless, fight inflation?! Why not fight for our own
healthcare and our education?! And instead, invest in that erasable
lead, 'cause their twisted propaganda can't erase all the dead. And the
pile of corpses pyramid on top of our heads. Or nevermind, said the
shotgun to the head... | | |
| 'Cos it's been a while:
01: Friendship.
02: Love.
03: Truth.
04: L.S.D.
05: Noel Gallagher's outro guitar solo to Supersonic at Knebworth.
06: Travel.
07: The subtle nuances, defined curves and casolette of the body of a young and beautiful woman.
08: Playing live music.
09: Nostalgia.
10: Humus.
I have nothing else to say.
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