When you’re me it’s particularly irksome to be forever in front, in the lead, going where others have never been before. An innovator, a prophet. To be rewarded with nothing.
Many things I abandon, someone else comes along and gets all the kudos, credit and cash.
Like so many things in life, this has become tedious routine for me. There are two things that probably keep me going: doing things no-one has ever done before and the fact many of my ideas are a disaster so, anyone following, suffers an even greater catastrophe than I did.
A point of fact is Topless Sword Fighting for Tarts. I refuse to drop this pastime but it is now subject to so many rules and interventions it is the opposite of everything I stand for: anarchy & chaos.
No-one has been killed and I aim to keep it that way but there have been ‘incidents’. Several of these have involved me and I’m the bloody referee.
Recently saw the introduction of wooden swords. They are worse than the real ones because there’s a false sense they’re somehow harmless – they are akin to baseball bats it you put some force behind them.
All tarts have animosity towards each other which can be seen even if you have to look very hard to find it. Give them some swords and you’ll soon see.
The events continue but with less frequency and a number of criteria must be met. (The tips have long since been guarded) The topless element remains, largely because it shortens the fights, especially in the colder months.
I would advise not following me down this ambulance filled road. Or, maybe you will and it will end up on TV and you’ll be a millionaire. Or, you or a participant will wake from this little dream which is life.
My plans for duelling with antique pistols using a substitute for the lead balls have been abandoned – I’m not mad