A new post!

Don't all faint at once. I'd prefer it if you did it in quick succession, like toppling dominoes; there's something innately pleasing about toppling dominoes. Maybe if you could dress as dominoes, too - that would be even better. Hmm... toppling human dominoes. Ok, I'm just going to wander off somewhere and imagine I have an army of toppling human dominoes - ooh, the power, the pretty patterns! Whilst I'm gone, here's some Umberclout Digsby for you to read:

(If you've forgotten who he is, and let's face it, it's been a while, first go here, then here.)


Umberclout Digsby is as old as the hills, though no-one knows quite which ones. Neither does Umberclout. Nevertheless, they’re pretty old ones and whatever you care to name, Umberclout’s seen it come and go: the Black Death; space hoppers; the wearing of leg-warmers as a fashion accessory; widespread belief in God. Everything that is apart from the terrible monster that stalks his every step, he’s still not seen that coming or going. Fortunately, though, everyone else does. Or else he’d be in all sorts of trouble.

But let us return to the vexed matter of Umberclout Digsby’s age. We know him to be as old as the hills, yet the tales of his childhood suggest a more contemporary date of birth. How can this be, you might ask. Well, none of us chooses when we are born, and for Umberclout Digsby it was just the same. That he was born when he was was of great surprise to him. One moment he’s wandering around atop those giant legs of his, minding his own enigmatic business, and the next there he is a tiny, screaming, helpless, blood-covered babe being torn from the loins of some woman he’s never seen before. It wasn’t pleasant let me tell you. Poor Umberclout, he was beyond scared, but it was even more terrifying there, so he scuttled back. Fortunately, though, he was soon safe in the comforting arms of his proud mother and there he fell asleep, strangely contented. So exhausted was little Umberclout that he slept for two days solid.

Why Umberclout Digsby then grew so quickly we can only speculate. Perhaps he was eager to grow up - what child isn’t? Or maybe he was just scared that so small and so helpless he’d be easy prey for the monster. Whatever the reason, it is not important. Neither is it important that he spent much of his childhood as a small man with very long legs. Umberclout Digsby got to have a childhood; that is what’s important. Not everyone is that lucky.


Ooh, look at them tumble - such pretty patterns! Oh, and those red ones are just perfect...

Oh, sorry, are you done? Fine. I'll quit my reverie then, shall I? Actually, why don't I just post a little more Umberclout. Then you can all go and read the next post, and I can go back to imagining a pleasingly accurate toppling human dominoes depiction of a brutally murdered Celine Dion. What's that you say - Celine Dion's an easy target? Well, I suppose you could be forgiven for thinking that, but you'd be surprised how many human dominoes it takes to represent a neck that size. Never mind the amount of blood that might gush out of something of such unnatural proportions. Nothing easy about it at all. But possible, I feel. This is the kind of thing I have in mind. But with more blood. And human dominoes. Obviously.