I stood in the river and got very wet. I also got cold. Did I mention I got cold? Perhaps I didn’t and should repeat that. I was so cold I was very cold. What was I doing here? This isn’t a literary device. I genuinely don’t have a clue. So please write in if you have any ideas.
I came from the east. I came from the east by the fens. I came from the east by the fens and now I am in the west. I came from the east by the fens and now I am in the west on a moor. My name is Edward. My name is Edward Buckmaster. My name is Edward Buckmaster who may or may not be related to the Edward Buccmaster who was the leading character in Paul’s previous book that made the Booker long list. I really hope I’m not but we don’t always get what we want. You may know the feeling.
I am thirsty. I have a glass of water. I feel a bit better. I think about having some lunch but I’m not hungry. I have been here for five seasons. Which is a more naturey way of saying I have been here for just over a year. I came from the east which I believe I might have already mentioned. In the east I had a wife and two children but I thought sod them I have to get away from the normal bourgeois parameters of punctuation that have been forced on us by the bureaucratic superstate of the EU and try to find my inner sense of Britishness by living wild my wife wasn’t too happy but I’m sure she understands outside a storm is brewing and I can feel the ceiling about to coll
id you see what I did there? I subjected the text to its own internal collapse which my editor says might be a prizewinning tactic. My left leg is very sore and my knee is so bent it is facing in the wrong direction but I just tie a plank of wood to it and everything feels just about OK. I have a glass of water and sit down to think about myself though the truth is I have begun to lose interest in myself. I expect you have too. I take myself outdoors for some walkies and there I have some very deep thoughts about how trees are really threatening when you think about them carefully as they watch over you, especially the elms that have been infected by the Dutch.
In the undergrowth I see a black shape. Is it a lion a hippo an elephant a rhinoceros? No it is the Beast of Bodmin. “Here kitty, kitty,” I shout, but the beast slopes off. How rude. I go home and have a glass of water which is quite refreshing. I determine that I am going to seek out this beast and find out what it wants. For days I walk but seem to always keep walking round and round in circles and end up back at the church where no one ever seems to be. Perhaps it would have been better had I learned to read a map before I tried being Asterix the Gaul. But I don’t trust maps as they’re all published by the EU. I go and lie down in the grass and ponder the true nature of grassiness. Grass is very grassy when you look at it carefu
uck it’s happened again only worse as now i can’t even use capitals when i write i as i need to find a way of symbolising how my sense of self which i had already lost interest in has now been totally subsumed by nature and my sentences are getting longer and longer and that’s about it. i have been looking for the beast of bodmin for a very long time and am so hungry i have even eaten some raw potatoes which was dead minging and i don’t know why i did that as i much prefer them.
hooray i have seen the beast with yellow eyes. “hello beast,” i say. “who are you.” “i’m george monbiot,” says the beast, “but you can call me george.” i try to follow george but he is far better at this stuff than me and i get lo
ere I am back in the east I think as there is some bloke attacking my daughter. i’ve no idea who he is but i expect he’s a foreigner. anyway i whack him with a spade and then go back looking for george because i suspect he really knows what brexit is all about and if he doesn’t then i guess we’re all fucked and i’ll just have another glass of water.
Digested read, digested: Bucky balls.
