Tuesday, 12 November 2013
The sad news of the death of Mr M . . . . . .
Mr M finally lost his battle defending himself with his pointy stick, the gods ran off with his soul just after midnight last night, I suspect they will tell the spirit of Mr M that he is not to mess about in heaven and under no circumstances is he allowed to attempt to make a two thirds scale model of the Taj Mahal out of special brew cans (again). However he was and I suspect still is a mischievous soul and will be doing something rebellious like drawing moustaches on sleeping angels or teaching cats to sing old jazz songs slightly faster than they should be sung so that they all sound like Tiny Tim.
Mr M (left) and the Ghost Writer (right) many moons ago
Interestingly the tale may continue a little while longer as dark shadows have loomed out from the far distant past and large doors appear to be closing, so that some of the things Mr M was keen to see happen will not. However among the dark shadows that are moving about is a secret; one that I think a certain person may prefer I did not know, a secret that should it be known would bring disharmony to the dark shadows, a secret that will remain secret but which will in its own good time grow in power and eventually come to cause much conflict among the dark shadows. Much will depend on one person’s greed and desire; in fact it is all a bit like that Indiana Jones (not the alien hunter) and the Holy Grail, Anyway it is a sad day but the wheels of fate could not be changed.
Mr M was a nice chap and will be missed by his friends a lot. Although he was a suborn eccentric (unlike me) who would always say after you told him that he was more annoying than a flock of seagulls wearing balaclavas on Brighton beach trying to run off with your fish supper . . . . . . I knew you were going to say that . . . .