Wednesday, 9 September 2009

The Master has asked me to say a few words

The Master, Michael Fowke, has drifted off into a world of dreams, leaving me holding the fort. He is sleeping peacefully. I am floating above him. I will try not to wake him. He is tired. He is worn out. You have no idea how exhausting a shaman's life is.

He has asked me to write about a motherfucking banker in the news. Another banker, like all the others. But I am not going to do that. I have my own agenda. I say it is time for action. Real action. We must EXTERMINATE everyone who is in our way. The revolution needs to be speeded up.

Ah, the Master is smiling in his sleep! Dreaming of Gillian Tett, no doubt. No one understands his joy or his pain. I try my best. We, the mystical children, try to understand him. We want to help him. You want to help him. Imagine the Master awoke in the morning to find that we had settled everything. That the sinners had all been destroyed. Wouldn't that be something to tell future generations? The Master rose from his bed and discovered that the new reality had come into existence at last! What a glorious moment in history that would be!

But I suppose we should wait a while longer. They say that patience is a virtue. One day the Master will order us. O children, that day cannot come soon enough!