Notes from New Sodom

... rantings, ravings and ramblings of strange fiction writer, THE.... Sodomite Hal Duncan!!

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Ain't No Homos Going To Make It To Heaven...

According to this little darling, to the rapturous applause of the congregation of the Apostolic Truth Tabernacle Church in Greenburg, Indiana, who nevertheless somehow "do not condone, teach, or practice hate of any person for any reason":

Which is funny, cause I actually found the keys to the kingdom hidden under a plant pot beside the door. Seriously, it happened when I was not that much older than the kiddiwink in the video, just a handful of years on, a few feet higher and a world or two wiser. I was playing, as you do, and accidentally knocked the pot over, and what do you know, there were the keys. Pretty golden olde-style keys -- mortis rather than yale, dig? -- with a wee tag on them that said, NO SUCH THING.

I tried taking them to a responsible adult, naturally -- a Sunday School teacher, blathering on about God and Heaven.

Look, I said, holding up the keys, NO SUCH THING.

He didn't want them, shooed me away, so off I went with the keys in my pocket, let myself into the little walled garden, and had a whole lot of fun scrumping apples in the orchard that doesn't exist.

No homos going to make it to Heaven? Baby, a whole lot of us are there already, in a place you'll likely never be, because you've locked it up and hidden the keys, and would let no one enter, and do not enter yourselves. Fuck, it seems you've forgotten where you hid the keys, and even what they look like. But seriously, if you just take a look around you for the plant pot...

Go on. You see it. You must see it. It's fricking everywhere.

Now, give it a wee kick.


Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Interview with Eric Schaller at WFR

Anyone who's picked up a copy of An A to Z of the Fantastic City and been wowed by the artwork -- which is, I'm assuming, anyone who's picked up a copy of An A to Z of the Fantastic City --- might well be interested in this interview over at Weird Fiction Review with the artist Eric Schaller. He has some very kind words to say (or rather sorta sneakily not say, in a circumlocutory, allusive and elusive manner, so as not give too much away) about his own favourite entries. And much else indeed.

Anyone who hasn't got the chapbook should also go and read it anyways, in fact, cause why would you be reading this blog if you're not interested in this sort of strange / weird art.



Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Fire is Coming

Go ye and read this if you're wondering what the fuck this is.

And so we come to the big finale, a rousing reprise of "All Things Under Heaven." I'd kinda like to work in "The Gift of Sodomy" and the stripling's refrain from "Message from Gomorrah," to get a full-on medley for the end, but the tunes don't quite mesh in my mind... yet. Ach, if I do figure out how to weave it all together, I reckon that would likely work better as an epilogue, all the cast coming out on stage for their curtain call in a big feel-good victory chorus.

Cause, yeah, whaddaya know, I appear to have entirely fucked with Rochester's "if they play, they gotta pay" ending. Heh.


"Fire is Coming"


Man of philosophy,
The prick's repairman,
Why such a stranger?
We've missed your care, man!

With all my art, my lord,
I've worked to cure
The agonies, my lord,
We all endure.

An epidemic spreads in all our hearts.
It's eaten pricks and withered women's parts
The aged curse and envy all who fuck,
In impotence, they rot and stink of muck.
The children harbour heavy discontents,
Complaining sorely of their fundaments.
And worst of all, the young who never broke a noble vow.
Are taught to play at Love in ways that Nature disallows!

What act of Love does Nature contradict?
What act of Love makes Heaven curse a dick?

Even your family is in the trap.
The queen has crabs and Prickett has the clap.
Hysteria sends Swivia to her room
With pain and ulcerations in her womb.

Then fuck the Fate who castigates a little harmless fun
And why so sure that there's no cure, that nothing can be done?

The Laws of Nature all must be restored!
The sin of sodomy must be abhorred!
God only made the dirty deed a joy
To propagate the end that you destroy!
His mercy turns to wrath when he's displeased,
And strikes a land corrupted with disease.

I won't believe I have to leave a love that you call sin,
Who's been so long beloved; I say, bring me penicillin!

[A pedestal rises back of stage, PUCKINELLO standing on it, unlit.]

You say the sodomy will fuck my life.
You say it's nature's law to fuck a wife?
And did the gods who made a king of me
Not gimme freedom with mortality?
Not gimme human form of heaven's will?
I'll use the gift—I'll reign and bugger still.

[Lights on PUCKANELLO in white latex nurse's outifit.]

A pox on Flux, all pious fucks—I'd rather be a whore!
So deus ex machina, baby--science heals the sores!

[PUCKANELLO scatters pills to the wretches. They throw off their rags, revealing golden bodypaint, and dance, lifting PUCKANELLO down from his pedestal to lead them.]

[The clouds break up and fiery demons appear in the air. They dance and sing:]

The fire is coming!
Buggers, buggers, hugger-mugger!
Fire is coming!
Scorch the frigging motherfuckers!
Fire is coming!
Cursing, blasphemous cocksuckers!
Fire is coming, it's too late to mend!

Arise, and rally Sodom then, my city to defend!

[Enter CUNTIGRATIA with soldiers.]

Sweet Bollox, hark to that infernal choir
My wretched spirit fears a funeral pyre.
My lord, your day of judgement's coming soon
My lord, your lack of shame will be your doom.
The miseries of hell sent from above
Well, I'll be damned for your unbridled love.
But we will walk through all the plagues and pestilence and pain -- oh-oh-yeah!
Across the lake of fire, lord! Until we meet again!

[Leads the soldiers in a charge, driving the demons back, FLUX with them. They vanish in smoke.]

My lord, the gods are pimps compared to you.
Which of the gods has done what you can do?

Let angels come and make the world a grave
Evacuate the state to hidden caves!

I'll make the angels wank till bollocks weep:
You've wanked us out of our eternal sleep.
Go now to north, south, east and west, until the order's given:
Bugger God and drain his cod! Now we conquer heaven!

Till the order's given:
Now we conquer heaven!
Till the order's given:
Now we conquer heaven!
Till the order's given:
Now we conquer heaven!

[The dancers scatter, whirling this way and that, and exit one by one.]

A fire is coming!

Call it Sodom and Gommorah!

Fire is coming!

Every city of tommorah!

Fire is coming!

See the future: Sodom rising!

Fire is coming, let it burn, burn, burn -- oh-oh-yeah!

On your buggered arse I'll die but Sodom will return!

[Exeunt omnes.]

[Enter two angels, FIRE and BRIMSTONE, and a CLOUD OF SMOKE appears. The angels look at the empty stage with confusion.]

[The curtain is drawn]


Ease My Prick

Go ye and read this if you're wondering what the fuck this is.

Again, this follows from the previous. The music would likely just carry on into it actually, since it's the same melody.


"Ease My Prick"

[Scene: A grove. Wretches in filthy rags lie on the ground, clutching genitals and moaning. A youth, under a palm-tree sitting, in a melancholy manner sings:]

Oh! Gentle Venus, ease my prick
Which calls your cunt his queen,
Which lately suffered by a lass,
And spits out pus as green as grass
And cankers has fifteen.

Beneath her hand it limply lies,
And try it might, but cannot rise.
And when it's got between her thighs,
It grieves to feel such pain,
And it draws back again.

[Enter PUCKINELLO, to hand the YOUTH some pills.]

Take two of these each day.

[The YOUTH offers money, but PUCKINELLO waves it away.]

Don't even have to pay.



Comfort My Cunt (Reprise)

Go ye and read this if you're wondering what the fuck this is.

This song follows on from the previous.


"Comfort My Cunt (Reprise)"

His power in the puddle drowned,
His seed all spattered on the ground.
Oh, such a waste, to throw away
The bliss for which my cunt has prayed,
Comfort my cunt.
Comfort my cunt

So lovers are when full of fire.
They come as quickly as desire.
They make their compliments before
They've even opened up the door.
Comfort my cunt.
Comfort my cunt

Oh cruel usurper, see him wipe
The fruit of love not even ripe.
And any tarses might surely moan
If dildo-smith can't rule his own.
Comfort my cunt.
Comfort my cunt

[Exeunt omnes]


Les Goots of Virtuoso

Go ye and read this if you're wondering what the fuck this is.

Yes, Virtuoso has become something of a shameless rip-off of Pirelli from Sweeney Todd... except with an accent mashing up French, German, Italian and Spanish. I figure he's trying to be "cosmopolitan."


"Les Goots of Virtuoso"

[Scene: The streets of Sodom. VIRTUOSO stands outside his dildo shop. Enter VAGINA, LABIA and CLITORIX. A tango beat begins.]

Were Officina here she would aver
The title of Grand Cunt belongs to her.

It's true her cunt can take a double fist.

She has as tight a cunt as ever pissed.

That mighty orifice of Nature's mirth
Has given fun, but never given birth.
As Vagina here avows,
Birth will make your cunt a cow's.

So will dildos of a satisfying girth.

[VIRTUOSO perks up at this, comes out to give his sales pitch.]

Madomes, les goots of Virtuoso
Are virtuous in oh so
Mucho variantal fashoñs
Madomes, the Virtuoso's dildos
Are indestructabildo,
Goot for multiplicket bashongs

Madomes, a woman musta shout
Por pintle steeff und stout
Werkin cunt she wanna prick.
Cunt she wanna daily fooking
Bullocks hourly to be sooking
Oh, un oliphauntine dick!

[Brings out an enormous dildo.]

If she no let it out,
If she no let it in,
Her coney go exploso!
If der damoiselles is stück
Mit a husband likes a book,
Look! Les goots of Virtuoso!

You boast about your art.
It isn't worth a fart.
This dildo, it is sagging!

The muzzle is too small.

Not long enough at all.

Virtuoso, you are bragging!

Madomes, allow un demonstrazzion
Of der philosophicazzion,
Mein inventional intentions.
Madomes, gratifactions I'm attestive
Por vagina most ingestive
Und arrestive of erections.

If you no let it out,
If you no let it in,
Your coney go exploso!
Signorita's cunt is cold?
Por der signor is too old?
Behold! Les goots of Virtuoso!

Why would Virtuoso bring
Such a bauble of a thing?

Perhaps its modeled on his own.

Hardly half a virgin's span,
Should be twice an average man's.

Give it here, the truth be known!

[Takes the dildo.]

If you don't fill it out,
If you don't fill it in,

Your money no disposo!
Por madomes a gratis trial
And der prick originial
You'll porsake por Virtuoso!

If you would have the grace
To let me take your place.
I'll give a wiser ruling.
More pricks have I enjoyed.
I've even used more toys.
I've had a lot more schooling.

[Takes the dildo from VAGINA.]

If you would claim your due
Seniority is true
But you should be the gracious
Your property was safe
While mine spat out a waif
So my estate's more spacious.

[Takes the dildo from CLITORIX.]

If you no let it out,
If you no let it in,
Your coney go exploso!
    (beckoning at CLITORIX:)
Les fraulien fookt by staff!
    (beckoning at VAGINA:)
Les fraulien fookt by calf!
Haff... les goots of Virtuoso!

So plump and lily-white—

So jauntily upright.

Had I a prick like this.
His will I would obey
And every cunt would pay
A tribute to my bliss!

[VAGINA starts frigging with the dildo.]

So stiff and oh so rough!

But is it long enough?

Give me the time to tell

I'll watch until my fancy
Satisfies my cunt's demands--

He makes his dildos rather well.

If you no let it out,
If you no let it in,
Your coney go exploso!
Satisfazzion guarantie!
Primo dildos make you cry
Buy les goots of Virtuoso!

Madomes, you want it in der hand?
Le power und command?
Iss a stupendulous surprise!
Madomes, you frig me mit your eyes.
My prick begin to rise

Virtuoso take your prize!

[Takes him by the prick]

My cunt would give this joy to you,
More than eyes could ever do,
For the way you fill my soul.
I'll give you every prince's treasure
And every pauper's leisure,
Put your prick into my hole!

[She unbuttons his trousers, takes his cock out.]

If I no let it out,
If I no let it in,
My cockerel go exploso!
All der ladies ai ai ai!
Finest yard they effer try!
So-o-o-oh, oh-o-oh, oh-o-oh!

[He ejaculates.]

Oh noes.

[He looks down at the semen on the ground.]

See les oops of Virtuoso.


Blessings From Gomorrah

Go ye and read this if you're wondering what the fuck this is.

Another disco number, lashings of "Disco Inferno" with a little hint of "Soul Man" in that "strange flesh."


"Blessings from Gomorrah"

[Scene: A grove. BOLLOX lazes on the grass, fondling himself. Enter PEEN.]

Sire, O, sire!
There's a stranger at the gates
From Gomorrah or tomorrow
Looking cool the way he waits
He was sent from your brother,
Tarsehole the king
Sire, you wanna see
The forty striplings he brings.

A nation at war wants its power to increase
It's pleasure we want though in times of peace
I've buggered and fucked all over the land.
But a cock can't stand
The confines of its own command

Gimme strange flesh.
Baby, nicely done.
Gimme strange flesh.
Baby, spare my son.

[PEEN enters with the striplings -- a chorus line. The messenger hands BOLLOX a letter. He reads.]

Brother, I bless you, I guess you know me.
So pretty a troop I never did see!
Hail and good health is the message you bring,
With some pretty things
Who got a little more to sing.

[The striplings dance, disco soul diva style.]

Joy in your gates and honour in your heights!
Plentiful pleasure in leisurely delights!
Hear us profess and express all the best!
Bountiful blessings, blessings from Gomorrah!

Stranger, I thank you.
You can go and tell your king
In my land, he can command
Any groove he'd like to swing
I'll send love and honour
Send him a score
Of pretty little virgins
Maybe I'll send him more.

See that this man's entertained while he stays,
With plenty of wine and our Sodomite plays.
All I command is: be cool, treat him right,
Let him fuck all night
And bugger to his heart's delight.

Gimme strange flesh.
All the bling I need
Gimme strange flesh.
It's my treasury.

Joy in your gates and honour in your heights
Plentiful pleasure in leisurely delights.
Hear us profess and express all the best
Bountiful blessings, blessings from Gomorrah!

[Pointing to the boys, who continue their refrain as he sings.]

Gimme strange flesh.
Your gold is mud
Next to strange flesh.
Flesh and blood

Gimme strange flesh.
Give every bedroom a boy
Gimme strange flesh.
A pretty darling of joy

[Pointing to one of the boys]

Gimme strange flesh.
Go get ready to screw
Gimme strange flesh.
I leave the room up to you

[Music cuts into a tribal beat. Think the drum solo from "Born to Hand Jive."]

Come to sodomy's dear delight,
You'll be honoured with lust tonight.
Such a beauty I can't deny.
Gotta get me between your thighs.

Your honour's grand as any man's.

I nurture honour where I can.

Joy in your gates and honour in your heights
Plentiful pleasure in leisurely delights.
Hear us profess and express all the best
Bountiful blessings, blessings from Gomorrah!

[Exeunt omnes]


Monday, May 28, 2012

The Dildos and Dogs

Go ye and read this if you're wondering what the fuck this is.

There's some big liberties being taken with the source here. In the original, it's General Buggeranthus who recounts the second-hand confession of a random woman he's encountered who once tried it on with a horse. I figured it would work better attached to an actual character; also, in the world of musicals a female triplet like this pretty much demands a number in which they giggle girlishly... or a parody thereof.


"The Dildos and Dogs"


O, we've gone to the dildos and dogs
Cause the dildos and dogs never fail.

O, we've gone to the dildos and dogs
I saw Clitorix frig with a doberman's tail.

But I did it with no small remorse,
For the dildos and dogs fill a crack
But I once had a fling with a horse.
And once you've gone pony there's no going back.

He was standing sadly with his cart;
Such a miserable yoke he wore
His sorrowful eyes near broke my heart;
And his back was all covered in sores.
I pitied his pain,
I scratched his mane
But one of us wanted more.

O, we've gone to the dildos and dogs
Cause the dildos and dogs never cheat.
O, we've gone to the dildos and dogs
But a horse would, of course, be a sumptuous treat.

With a start his tarse began to stand,
Such a pintle beyond compare.
I fondled it gently in my hand,
Decided to play his mare.
I turned myself round
And guided it down.
I figured I'd room to spare.

O, we've gone to the dildos and dogs
Cause the dildos and dogs never lie.
But there's more than the dildos and dogs

Though a horse can, of course, be a little bit shy.

He was bashful with a girl like me
For his faithfulness was such
He was loyal to a fault, you see;
He'd have only his mistress's touch.
I had to depart,
With a broken heart
For he kept pulling out of my clutch

O, we've gone to the dildos and dogs
Cause the dildos and dogs aren't cruel.
O, we've gone to the dildos and dogs
Cause intelligent creatures are ever the fool.

So we frig and fiddle with what we find,
With anything we can stand.
We hey diddle diddle with what we find
As we wander this woeful land.
Our hungry cunts
Are on the hunt
For whatever comes next to hand.
A dildo, a dog,
Or even a frog,
Whatever comes next to hand.


The Gift of Sodomy

Go ye and read this if you're wondering what the fuck this is.

Musically, this reprises/develops the theme of "With My Prick I Shall Govern the Land." Just so's you know. It's a pity you can't hear how it sounds in my head, actually. It's, like, totally anthemic.


"The Gift of Sodomy"


Since I've buggered human arse I find
My cock to cunt is not so much inclined.
Though my lechery is dry, it's smart—
It's chicken's arse I love with all my heart:
The lust and lechery
In which I see
These beasts is matched by none
Their holes enhanced
With every dance,
While cunts are drained of fun.

The more you fuck, the more they swell,
A cock like clappers in a bell:
No buttocks clenching on each side;
No foreskin tickled as you slide;
No sphincter squeezing glans to glide
No flesh to grasp and tightly guide
In entrance to that grand delight,
The gift of sodomy!

Give nature's gift its due,
But man delights in countless ways to screw.
And may his name remain, forever famed in all of history,
That prince of guys who first devised the gift of sodomy.

The simple lusts of old,
So full of shame, so feeble and so cold.
So confined in all the bindings of the law—
You husbands' cocks your consorts never saw.
When lust or loyalty
Unshackled thee,
You fucked with such dull care.
As if you stood,
A rod of wood
Would rather be elsewhere.

You stroked and spent and gave a groan
You said goodnight and slept alone:
Now we seek as our soul intends
We seek the dictates of our sense
We study pleasure's sacraments
We search and find new fundaments
And revel in that bliss intense,
The gift of sodomy!

Give nature's gift its due,
But man delights in countless ways to screw.
And may his name remain, forever famed in all of history,
That prince of guys who first devised the gift of sodomy.

Faces change, but a twat remains a twat,
And he who fucks one is slave to schemes they hatch.
Why, Borastus, should we always bring
One dish to feast the palate of a king?
A chef's device
Of sauce and spice
Can tease a critic's taste.
The same old meat,
The only treat
Is how the sauce is laced.

Cunt after cunt is just the same
You get bored of the same old game:
With menstrual flowers for the sauce
And maybe whites to dress the dross
And crabs like shrimp on salad tossed
As garnish for no extra cost.
My appetite, it would be lost
If not for sodomy.

Give nature's gift its due,
But man delights in countless ways to screw.
And may his name remain, forever famed in all of history,
That prince of guys who first devised the gift of sodomy.

[Enter BUGGERMAN with soldiers.]

Brave general, have you news to bring?

Your soldiers sing the praises of their king
To your honour they're forever bound.
They swear it all, they swear and tear the ground,
Now in your name
What you proclaim
They practise with each other
No need of lass
Just comrade's ass
They live as wife and brother

It saves at least a fortnight's pay
With cunts they know it costs to play.
They'd die from drinking to your health,
They'd conquer paradise by stealth,
They'd fight the gods themselves to win
Eternity for Sodom's kin
No man alive would call it sin
This gift of sodomy

Give nature's gift its due,
But man delights in countless ways to screw.
    [But man delights in--foreskin tickled as you slide]
And may his name remain, forever famed in all of history,
    [And sphincter squeezing glans to glide / And flesh to grasp and tightly guide]
That prince of guys who first devised
    [In entrance to that grand delight]
The gift of sodomy!


The Specifics of a General

Go ye and read this if you're wondering what the fuck this is.

I don't know if it's because I picture General Buggerman as something of a handlebar-moustached General Melchett from Blackadder Goes Forth, but I can only imagine him singing in the terribly posh, perfectly enunciated tones you'd expect in a Noel Coward song, or from some Gilbert & Sullivan major-general, modern or otherwise.


"The Specifics of a General"


Let your last siege end happy in this crown,
The prize your prick has lost, my cunt has found.
Your seed, sir, with my pleasure, I confess
Was in my cunt a most abundant mess
That had all men—whose pintles I adore—
With bursting bollocks fucked me o'er and o'er—
No man in nature could have filled me more.

If kings are gods on earth, a queen may claim
The coronet of "goddess" as her name.
And though I know you say it shows
Perfection in that gent
Whose tarse can please divinities
Below in so sublime a sense

I know I owe it all, with no pretence,
To your majestic cunt's omnipotence.

This modesty is charming, dear
But doesn't fit you well
Your virtues I will specify
It's clear to me you're rather swell.

The specifics of a general, I declare:
The fearless rectitude of he who dares!
Whose arm is strong enough to give the mighty Mars a shove.
Whose prick's the very standard of the Queen of Love,
Whose bollocks like a pair of worlds contain
A plethora of pleasures in each vein.
Dearest General, take your due
There's good in every inch of you.
If you'll just oblige my lust, my cunt will show you how it's true.

Your favours, madam, are so far above
The lowly merits of a soldier's love,
Who would of course in lechery be loyal and obey,
Who in obedience would screw my soul away,
Whose victories would all become, alas,
A poor oblation to your royal snatch.

Still you modestly retire?
My advances don't inspire?
From battle's heat, would you retreat, the way you flee this friendly fire?

Nay! The courage of a general, I swear,
On the honour of the battle-scars I wear!
But toils of cunt are quite a different thing than work of war.

If fucking seems a toil, good lord, I'll take that horror
Dear General, you must see your mistake.
It's so easy and so pleasing to partake,
Fucking's all that we hold dear,
That assault from front or rear--

But fuck or fight, some small respite -- a soldier has to rest his spear.

The specifics of a general need leave
Reinforcement is required to relieve
To prematurely push before the forces are renewed
Would only lead to our defeat: we'd be subdued.
My queen, I sigh to celebrate the hour
That stole my love and robbed me of my power.

[Moves to go.]

Dearest General, I say: stay!

Then I shall, of course, obey.

A kiss adieu, then follow through—just one more for the road, I pray.

The specifics of a general, if they could
Would have answered that command with a salute.
While the monstruous menstrual coursing of your blood supplies your cunt
With tireless lust, I must however be quite blunt.
This weary lecher sadly must refuse
With prick too weak to do what I would choose.


Dearest General, does my lust
Only turn you to disgust
At our toils, all our spoils--your honour and this love I'd lose?

The specifics of this general I crave:
Ah, Buggerman, as big as he is brave!
I should have worn my passion with the grandeur of a queen.
I should have not betrayed so loose a love off-scene.
My love would then obey my majesty
To please with his particularities.
My passion's given him his treat
A tasty smorgasbord of meat.
And now the glutted lecher scorns to eat.
The specifics of a general, I declare
Are specifically generally unfair!



Sunday, May 27, 2012

A Fond Adieu

You're not going to have chanced on this entry without knowing the backstory, are you? Me rewriting The Farce of Sodom as a musical? If you're like "Whuh?!" go here. Otherwise...

With this number, I'm not sure it isn't just a continuation of "A Helping Hand," but it feels like there should be a break between them. I'm tempted to move this to after the next song coming up, indeed, stage it with PRICKETT entering, followed by SWIVIA and PUCKINELLO.


"A Fond Adieu"

[PUCKANELLO rises, licking his lips, all innocence.]

If you'd told me to hold it at bay.
Puckenallo woulda!

Puckanello shoulda!

Oh to lose such a blessing so gay!
Puckanello sighs. Puckanello cries.

Sweet prince, a pardon for this mistake
It's clear I have some amends to make.
So here at your feet,
I'm yours to beat,
To use as you command,
To slap with tarse
My mouth or arse,
Wherever your prick will stand.

You've exhausted my spirits; I'm done,
Puckanello, drained! Maybe sprained!
You've ruined me and your own fun
Puckanello, shame! You're to blame!

Your new desires got quite a shove
He took you quick to the heart of love.
But on such a ride
You're bound to collide
With a terrible wonderful end.
You hope for the pleasure
But can't keep the treasure.
You'll just have to go again.

The will is willing, but it's no use
When little Pricket ain't got the juice.
I've spent my desire,
I'll have to retire,
And sleep till I rise anew.
I'll nap for an hour,
Recover my power
Or bid fucking a fond adieu.

Our ambitions are fled.
Let us take him to bed.
Though he's living, he's good as dead.

[Exeunt, leading him mournfully]


A Helping Hand

Going by the order in the original Restoration play I'm adapting to a pornotropic Spectacular Spectacular, the previous Prickett and Swivia scene should actually come directly before this, but I rather think it might be better to introduce them earlier, with "A Most Obliging Friend" coming after "The Two-Timer's Waltz" and before "Comfort My Cock." This, then, would stand as a jaunty wee opener for Act Two.

Those familiar with The Farce of Sodom may note that I've brought Puckanello in to further the depraving of Prickett rather than, as per the original, one of Cuntigratia's maids. So yeah, the Puckinello character steals the spotlight. No surprise there. But besides and anyways... come on! Rochester, dude, you cannot follow full-on adolescent incest with just a hand-job by a random doxy. Is that what you call stepping up the action? I think not! It's tame, I say, tame, and we won't be having that, oh no.

No, I say! Unleash the Puck! I'll probably need him to royally fuck with that "fiery demons" ending, so we may as well let him slip the reins now.


"A Helping Hand"

[PRICKETT and SWIVIA as before. The opening of the music reprises the intro of "An Obliging Friend"]

Your love's grown cold, now you can do no more.
But how I love you better than before.

I dreamed a stream flowed through my prick like whites of eggs.

I dreamt that too; it ran between my legs.

[Reprising the main theme, but in a melancholic tempo and key:]

What makes this pearl upon my pintle's snout?

You lately fucked. And now your dream is out.

That I should lose my senses seems absurd
And yet, it's true, it's all a little blurred.

O, this cunt it has made your pintle weep for the pleasure that it got,
But it's lulled you into a gentle sleep and it's muddled your waking thought.

It's strange, the change, such a simple feat
All my senses fuddled by such a treat.
A gaping and hungry and hairy beast
Such a feast for a squeamish prick.
I have to admire it
Cause I still desire it
Although my heart is full.
Its curious hold
That melted the cold,
Makes my pintle want a pull.

New joy for a boy is a nice surprise.
But try it again other joys will arise.
A heart is forever a hole to fill,
And your skills will soon improve.
Come, try it again,
It'll ease your pain,
To do what you enjoy
What others resist
It shouldn't be missed
It's good for a growing boy.

The air down there's a peculiar thrill,
The heat of summer, the winter's chill.
My blood's beginning to beat once more
But it's sorely tired it seems.

Let me give it a feel.
But it's cold as steel.
We'll have to make it rise.
Put it in my trust,
I'll bring it to lust.
Just stroke my cunt and thighs.

Your cock's in need of a helping hand; I'll lend a hand to you.
With vim and vigour, I'll lend a hand, and you'll soon be keen to screw.
My cunt's in need of a helping hand; it needs assistance too.
With vim and vigour, now lend a hand; oh, Prickett, this just won't do.

[Noise within]

Wait, somebody's humming. Is somebody coming?

[Hurriedly covers up.]

It wouldn't be me or you.


Twas the touch of the finger and thumb,
Puckinello's skin! Soft as sin!
That got Peen's pretty pintle to cum.
Hit his chin! Puckinello's win!

Sweet Puck, what luck, what a nice surprise!

Sweet Lady Swivia and -- oh my!
Am I disturbing some private games?

Was shame ever yours or mine?
You see what we've done.
We've only begun.
And already I've tired my hand
We'd like to continue
But as I'm all in, you--

Could easily make it stand.

Your cock's in need of a helping hand; I'll lend a hand to you.
With vim and vigour, I'll lend a hand, and you'll soon be keen to screw.

Sister Swivia, pass me to Puck.
Puckinello, try! Puckinello, try!
For some reason, I feel I'm in luck!
Don't know why! Don't know why!

Your cock's in need of a helping hand; I'll trust him with your sperm.
I'll put my property in his hands, but only with some terms.
With just the power of pounding hand, the first to make him hum,
When balls get tighter and pintle stands, they'll have the spurting cum.

Cross my heart -- if it's good with your grace?

I agree! Fine by me!
But now, sister, give over your place.
Puckanello, please! Have a squeeze!

Your cock's in need of a helping hand; I'll lend a hand to you.
With vim and vigour, I'll lend a hand; I'll wank you through and through.
Your cock's in need of a helping hand!

Puckanello, oh! Puckanello, whoa!

A little tickle upon the glans!

Puckanello, wow! Puckanello, ow!

A little nip and you'll see it dance!

Not so fast! Make it last!
Or the joy will soon be in the past!

See how his cheek has a ruddy glow.

See Prickett's pricket on overflow!

[Clamps his mouth over the cock.]

Puckanello, oh!

Now that was a wank!
All done and all thanks
To your treacherous helping hand!


End of Act One

Apparently the big finish to Act One of Sodom! The Musical is a disco number. It's certainly got a beat not unlike that of "Disco Inferno" in my head. I'm sure the opening's riffing off something in particular actually but I'll be damned if I can think what.


"Fuck Me Again (And Again And Again)"

To the grotto, come, help me unwind.
Got a General running through my mind.
Hear him coming, echoes in the air.
He'll be cumming, cumming everywhere!
Sing, Vagina, charm us with a touch.
Just don't sing of chastity too much.

Chastity's a word I never knew
Wanna song though? See what I can do.

[As VAGINA sings: CUNTIGRATIA sits in a chair of state; LABIA and CLITORIX on either side, pull up her skirts, raise her legs; OFFICINA moves in with the dildo.]

Arise, stately tarse,
And let your bollocks grind
For seed.
Heave, ample arse,
And let your cunt be kind
To the deed.

[OFFICINA thrusts the dildo in.]

Thrust, pintle, with a force
Powerful as any horse.
Fucked till her cunt explodes,
Flooded by your blown load.

Fuck me again and again and again!
Fuck me again and again and again!
If cock can't regain its breath
Resurrection is worse than death.

I spring a leak.
All hands to the pumps,
Don't be so meek.
Wanna feel well-humped
At last!

Thrust, pintle, with a force
Powerful as any horse.
Fucked till her cunt explodes,
Flooded by your blown load.

Fuck me again and again and again!
Fuck me again and again and again!
If cock can't regain its breath
Resurrection is worse than death.

More, I want more,
You don't make it spurt,
Sweet maid.
Fuck till I'm sore,
I want to hurt.
Don't be afraid.

Blame Virtuoso's stock!
Shoulda made a bigger cock.
This dildo ain't big enough
Gonna have to make it rough!

[She goes at it with real vigour.]

Fuck me again and again and again!
Fuck me again and again and again!
If cock can't regain its breath
Resurrection is worse than--

[Six naked women and six naked men appear, and dance, the men doing obeisance to the women's cunts, kissing and touching them often, the women doing ceremonies to the men's pricks, kissing them, dandling their cods, etc., and so fall to fucking.]

Fuck me again and again and again!
Fuck me again and again and again!
If cock can't regain its breath
Resurrection is worse than--
Fuck me!
Fuck me!
Little dildos can't compare,
Only getcha halfway there
So fuck me again and again and again!
Fuck me again and again and again!


If cock can't regain its breath
Resurrection is worse than death.

O, like we're drowned
Lying on the shore,
Waves break!
There in a swound,
Can't spend no more,
But then we wake!

[CUNTIGRATIA takes the dildo from OFFICINA and starts using it on herself again. The rest pull out their dildos and frig too.]

Thrust, pintle, with a force
Powerful as any horse.
Fucked till her cunt explodes,
Flooded by your blown load.

Fuck me again and again and again!
Fuck me again and again and again!
If cock can't regain its breath
Resurrection is worse than--
Fuck me again and again and again!
Fuck me again and again and again!

[Enter BOLLOX and PUCKINELLO, at back of stage, the catamite leading the king in a lewd conga. Enter PEEN, at other side of stage. BOLLOX beckons him to join them. They conga round the stage, gathering the naked men and women.]

Fuck me again and again and again!
Fuck me again and again and again!
Fuck me again and again and again!
Fuck me again and again and again!


Saturday, May 26, 2012

"Of All the Pricks to Choose"

From Sodom! The Musical. Again, following on directly from the previous post. Yes, that's two posts in the space of ten minutes or so! Well, I had both songs written, and the other one's only wee. Anyway


"Of All the Pricks to Choose"

[Scene: A portico next to a garden adorned with naked statues of both sexes in various postures. In the middle of the garden is a woman representing a fountain, standing on her head and pissing bolt upright. Enter CUNTIGRATIA, OFFICINA, her Madam, and the Whores of Honour, VAGINA, LABIA and CLITORIX.]

I'm not happy. It's unfair.
In his pleasures I can't have a share.
No relief for the grief of a cunt needing care,
Alone on my throne as a queen of despair,
For all I decree there's no cock serving me--

Still these girls all have plenty to spare.

[The Whores of Honour giggle. CUNIGRATIA glowers at them.]

I'm not jealous, but I must
Say your joy seems a trifle unjust.
Not that I would deny you the meat that you lust.
A flesh and blood woman requires her crust.
But beauty and youth are a paltry excuse
When my cunt it is turning to dust!

Oh, of every prick that's in the world,
Of all the pricks to choose,
Had I every prick that's in the world,
All but his I would refuse.

[She gives VAGINA an angry look.]

I'm not greedy. I just can't
Turn away from a prick with demands.
Royal seed has a need for a fuck on command.
Against its intensity who can withstand?
I wouldn't offend you but I have to tend
To my King's pressing matters in hand.

[As CUNTIGRATIA bristles, OFFICINA steps in between her and VAGINA.]

I'm just saying, but of course,
You must know that he fucks with remorse.
He wed you and spread you, as big as a horse.
The reason your cunt and his cock are divorced?
In Vagina's defence, now your snatch is immense,
He's resorting to tighter resorts.

Oh, of every prick that's in the world,
Of all the pricks to choose,
Had I every prick that's in the world,
All but his I would refuse.
I know you say, cousins,
There's dicks by the dozens,
But his is the dick I would use
To fuck away the blues.

I'm just thinking, such a mind
Should be so singularly inclined?
He's a man, and a man is quite simply designed.
His prick is impressive but one of a kind?
If others will do, there are plenty who screw
Just as good as the king, you will find.

Oh Clitoris, dear, that's certainly clear
Your studies are clearly refined.

I'm not you, but let's say,
If I was, would I not have my way?
Every cock on the block if I wanted to play.
So what if he took back the crown that he gave?
Your cunt is a citizen, free as a clit is
In honour already betrayed.

Oh, of every prick that's in the world,
Of all the pricks to choose,
Had I every prick that's in the world,
All but his I could abuse.
I know you say, cousins,
There's dicks by the dozens,
But whose is the dick I should use
To fuck away the blues?

I'm not picky, but let's pick.
General Buggerman's got quite a kick.

His lance is entrancing to see when it's slick.

In your arms he has charms with his stallion's prick.

His dick is as strong as his sword -- and as long.

And your cunt to a hair it would nick.

I'm not loose. I'm just free.
I'll command him in conquest of me.
In the bliss of his kiss and his corps of esprit,
He'll fuck me to heaven and sweet liberty.
To the beat of his drum, I will come, I will come.

When he comes to you presently.

[Music comes to an abrupt stop. OFFICINA is sheepish, tentative now:]

He's twelve hours from here.

[CUNTIGRATIA looks daggers at her, makes an angry growl of sorts. You know Miranda Richardson in Blackadder, as Queenie, when she's building towards blowing her top? Like that.]

Which is still pretty near.

[At CUNTIGRATIA's growl of frustration rises, OFFICINA hurries to avert the explosion of fury:]

But if you can't contain it and must ease the pain,
Let the hours defending him flee.

[OFFICINA whips out a dildo.]

As we frig you to ecstasy!


Comfort My Cunt

From Sodom! The Musical. To follow on directly from the previous post.


"Comfort My Cunt"

[The stage is dark. Soft music is played. A small voice, in a mournful key:]

Unhappy cunt, oh comfortless,
From lavish slurps to sad distress,
Comfort my cunt.
Comfort my cunt.

Now shorn of ornamental hair,
And starved to gasp at empty air.
Comfort my cunt.
Comfort my cunt.

In exile from its dearest duck,
That proselyte to pagan fuck.
Comfort my cunt.
Comfort my cunt.

Oh, please, oh, please, you Powers Below,
Great Mistress of the Monthly Flow!
Comfort my cunt.
Comfort my cunt.

Come, come away, and in a tick,
Give me advice... or give me dick.
Comfort my cunt
With cum for my cunt.


Friday, May 25, 2012

The Two-Timer's Waltz

And lo, with this following on directly from the previous post's debauched denouement, Scene One of Sodom! The Musical is complete!

"The Two-Timer's Waltz"

[BOLLOX and PUCKANELLO lie post-coitus.]

My lord and sugar daddy dear,
O royal master of my rear,
Permission to speak freely here?

Go on, you know you have my ear.

The last time you were in that tomb
The jaws of Fuckadilla's womb,
You said her juices didn't flow?

And what of that?

I told you so.

[PUCKANELLO holds his hands up as BOLLOX frowns. The music begins, a waltz. Think "A Little Priest" from Sweeney Todd.]

Now don't be irate. I've a tale to relate.

Puckanello, tell! Puckanello, tell!

It's no wonder her cunt is a fucking affront.

Talk about a smell! Talk about a smell!

What it is, my lord, to be blunt,
Is that Peen's seen too much of her cunt.
They go at it
Worse than rabbits
Even during her time of the month!

The Two-Timer's Waltz? Is this true, is it false?

Puckanello lie? Never I!

So your motives are pure. Are you totally sure?

Puckanello saw! Dropped his jaw!

Saw the traitor there in her bed,
Wiping menstrual blood from his lead.
With his shirt he
Hid the dirty,
But his hard-on was dyed bloody red.

So he wanted to splurge? It's a natural urge.
Where's the hurt in a little spurt?

He's infringing the right of his king every night
Didn't even ask! Talk about some brass!

It's a little prick sneaking thence
To prepare her for the immense.
Crimes like this?
Piece of piss!
His arse can pay for prick's offence.

Ropy seed I shall spill and his fundament fill.
Puckanello, come! Puckanello, come!

My pintle gets hotter, so I think oughta
Take turns with the two of you,
Bugger you black and blue
Do, Puckanello, what I do best!
Let's find Peen and get him undressed!



All Things Under Heaven

My mind is a sewer. Yes, it is. My mind is a fricking sewer. Say the words "Sodom! The Musical" to it, and it proceeds to rewrite The Farce of Sodom and make it even more sordid. Cause, you know, Rochester -- assuming the attribution to Rochester is correct -- just didn't go far enough, not without at least a nod to felching.

Oh well. For those of you debauched enough to join me in my bawdy Broadway reimagining of this Restoration depravity, this song actually follows on directly from the first post, in which King Bollox is introduced with his Pimpmaster General, Borastus, and his favourite catamite, Puckanello, for the rousing opening number, "With My Prick I Will Govern the Land". Which you'll note has been updated with a little staging. If you happen to have perused the original, by the way, you might also note I've cut the characters of Pene and Tooly both there and in the following. I may see if I can bring them back into the story later on -- assuming common sense doesn't kick in and tear me away from trying to write a musical that makes Jerry Springer: The Opera look tame -- but I figured there was a tighter dynamic to be got from just the king, his pimp and his bitchboi. So I'm taking liberties with a libertine's licentiousness. Is that ironic or just apt?

Anyways, yeah, if you have a shred of a sense of propriety, probably best to stop reading now. Otherwise... that opening scene carries on thusly:


"All Things Under Heaven"

[BOLLOX beckons BORATUS and PUCKANELLO aside. Music begins in a salsa rhythm.]

All you who counsel me...
My loyal fellows...

Borastus here, your grace!

Your Puckanello!

Between the three of us,
Can I be blunt?
Between the three of us,
I'm bored with cunts.

It seems I've lost my fire.

For all the cunts you once admired?

I've lost my fire.

Such drudgery could kill desire.

I've lost my fire.

For arse, your grace, you never tire.

I've lost my fire for fucking cunts! pussies! twats! oh-oh-yeah!
I'm going back to buttocks and I'm giving up the snatch.

My joy in virgin cunts, to that I'll hold,
With some small fondness for the very old.
And in my absence dildos may be used
With cream of goatsmilk with some cum infused.
But now the shaven cunt of womankind's my very last resort, oh-oh-yeah!
The merkins just keep rubbing off and spoiling my sport.

Let all the merkins, sire,
From this day forth,
Be burned upon the pyre
Or banned from court.
Who wants to fuck a thatch
Dry as a twig?
It isn't right that snatch
Should wear a wig.

As for my queen, her cunt no more invites,
Clad in the filth of her most nasty whites.
Borastus, it's your job to bring me arse.

The choice of buggers, sire, is kinda sparse.
I would advise your grace to make another happy pass, oh-oh-yeah,
At Puckenello's puckered little sphincter in his ass.

[BORASTUS clicks his fingers and PUCKANELLO twirls to centre-stage, strikes a pose. BORASTUS moves in behind, slips his hands into PUCKANELLO's open shirt. PUCKANELLO grinds.]

You can't deny your lust;
So soft a skin
Would tempt a saint to thrust

[Hands dropping to PUCKANELLO's hips, he mimes a hard thrust.]

His pintle in.

[A spank on the arse sends PUCKANELLO in the direction of BOLLOX, where he proceeds to come on like the world's horniest power-bottom.]

When last, my lord,
You gave me leave
To let my gentle hand
Your glans unsheathe,

[From behind, he grasps BOLLOX's cock through trousers, then whirls the king round, spinning himself to reverse positions.]

You moved it to my arse,
And with a little shove it fit
Into my arse,
Far better than a hand and spit,
And with my arse
I did the deed, I didn't quit
Till in my arse I felt you spurt! spunk! squelch! oh-oh-yeah!
You must recall your empty balls and all that cum to felch.

[They dance now, salsa-style.]

Your payout's put me in some deep arrears.
So let's get working while my schedule's clear,
And for a mate I'll take you with my staff.
Your pretty arse shall be my better half.

[BOLLOX strips off PUCKANELLO's shirt, tosses it to BORASTUS.]

That better half, my lord, although it's blind,
Will hope to be, my lord, loyal and kind.
Ain't nothing I want more than that your Puckenello's arse
May win the royal favour gushing from your royal tarse.

[BOLLOX spins PUCKANELLO away from him, whipping his trousers off, stripper-style.]

With Puckanello then
I'll have a touch.

[PUCKANELLO dances back, drops to his knees before BOLLOX and starts undoing his trousers.]

Oh lord, you honour me
Oh, way too much!

[BORASTUS clicks his fingers and naked heralds dance onstage. He takes BOLLOX's ermined robe and hands it off to them.]

It means the world to me
To earn your trust,
To be the heraldry
To royal lust.

[BORASTUS pulls down the king's trousers, and BOLLOX steps out of them, naked. The heralds raise PUCKANELLO up, legs spread, arms thrown wide.]

And now I'm truly blest!
Your will is heavenly caress.
I'm truly blest!
Unworthy, but I'll do my best.
I'm truly blest!
I don't deserve your tenderness.
I'm truly blest if you will fuck! Puck! raw! -- oh-oh-yeah!

[He drops backwards, into the heralds' hands, who lay his supine form before a kneeling BOLLOX, place a heel on each shoulder.]

Hard and fast and fuck that ass like Sodom never saw!

All those who pleasure me I will repay.
Sweet land of liberty, this happy day,
Let buggery be loosed across the land,
So cunt is not abused by any man.
To north, south, east and west, indulgence shall be given
In Sodom's eyes to sodomise all things under heaven!

All things under heaven!
All things under heaven!
All things under heaven!
All things under heaven!

[Exeunt BORASTUS and heralds. Sodomy ensues.]


Thursday, May 24, 2012

Can't. Stop.

Dear world,

Further to yesterday's blog post re my mate sending me a link to The Farce of Sodom in an email exhorting me to do something with it -- like, a musical or summat -- I find myself compelled to request that heretofore you refrain from putting ideas like that in my head.

No, really. This is wrong. So so wrong. Seriously, my only defense is that all the wrongness is totally there in the original, honest, or most of it is, at least, and it's not as wrong as Delany's Equinox, and... and... oh, I give up. See below for more updated antiquated filth.

Hugz and kittehs,


"A Cunt is a Most Obliging Friend"

[Enter PRICKETT and SWIVIA, Prince and Princess of Sodom. SWIVIA begins the song slow and tender, lilting:]

Twelve months to wait before you have the years
To fuck as Puckenello does, my dear.
I know the path to fifteen seems a stee-eep in-cline...

You know I would have dipped my prick at nine!

[Music goes into its proper tempo now. Think "What's This?" from Nightmare Before Christmas.]

My prick! My prick! I want to dip my wick!
We're here alone. I'll show you how it's grown.
You show me yours and I will show you mine.
Remember how I showed you it at nine?

Your dick! Your dick! So tell me, is it slick?
With sweat, my pet? Cause I'm a little wet.
I'll shut the door, and let you have your wish.
Just don't be telling me I smell of fish.

[Cut into a slower waltz tempo:]

Oh, a sister's a most obliging friend, an obliging friend indeed!

And a brother's a joy I recommend, cause he's always a friend in need!

[Swivia pushes Pricket to his knees in front of her, whips her skirt off. He gapes.]

How queer! How weird! It's got a little beard!
A mouth, a maw, with lips a liitle raw!
The strangest creature that I ever saw.
Are these the monsters men admire in awe?

This twat, you brat, our mother tells me that
She spat a sprat; it's how you were begat.
Our father straddled mother's open lap
And with his cock he filled her full of--


Come here, draw near, there's nothing to be feared.
You'll sigh, you'll cry, you'll absolutely die!
--but the pleasing teasing death you get from cunts,
It'll tickle you alive again at once!

[They waltz, with fondling and frottage.]

Oh, a cunt is a most obliging friend, it's your oldest friend indeed.
Since men had the goods to trade or spend, it's been making them spend their seed.

Your prick, so thick! Your heart is beating quick!
You burn, you yearn! There's bliss you want to learn!

My heart incites within me a desire,
My blood is burning—

Let me soothe the fire.

Oh my! Oh me! Oh this is agony!

    (yanking his trousers down)
Then set it free! Now this is lechery.
Now lie on me, and bring your rascal here--
A little higher -- oh, you're getting near!

Oh, a sister's a most obliging friend, an obliging friend indeed!

And a brother's a joy I recommend, cause he's always a friend in need!

It's strange! The change! The way things are arranged!
Your parts! Some charts! I need to learn these arts!
Please lead it where it's never been before.

My brother dear, it's opening the door.

I'm in! Within! The softness on my skin!

Then thrust your lust. The in-and-out's a must.

So sing it, sister, as my soul departs.

I'd sing it if hadn't pierced my heart.

Oh, a cunt is a most obliging friend, an obliging friend indeed!
What is this? Is it bliss? Is it my wit's end?

Is it not just a joy you would recommend?

Yes, a cunt is a most obliging friend,
And a minute's more time than I can spend
    Oh! Oh! OH!
    Now I'm spent, I'm done, I'm dead!

And a cock is a joy I recommend, which is my legs are spread!

[Slow to finish.]

Oh, brother, I live at the fucking you give.
And your death would turn pleasure to pain.
So kiss me and live...

[Song ends]


Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Sodom! The Musical

After it was mentioned on a BBC4 documentary on Restoration women the other night, it seems, a friend sent me links to the Wikipedia entry on and the full text of a Restoration play carrying the teasing title of The Farce of Sodom, or The Quintessence of Debauchery, possibly written by one of the great libertines of history, John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. I was, as she correctly guessed, already familiar with it, (by way of John Coulthart, I suspect,) but I did end up glancing through it again, cause her point in sending it was basically: hey, Mr Appropriation/Adaptation Guy, you should totally do something with this. Come on: Sodom! The Musical. This. Must. Be. Done.

But hmmm, says I. It's a tricky one, this. The play is kind of gloriously filthy, with character names such as Bolloximian and Cuntigratia giving a mere flavour of the bawdy excess. Being a satire on the court of King Charles II however, it's all a bit sneakily moralist in the end -- Bolloximian's disavowal of cunt in favour of arse leads to chaos (chaos! I say, CHAOS!) in the kingdom, which is all put right in the end with the social order restored, in part by fiery demons. And yet... the sheer level of filth rather carries the day, to my mind, and makes that upright end (*ahem*) seem about as sincere as any early Hollywood movie using the "If they play, they gotta pay" rule as paper-thin excuse for lurid spectacle: Yeah, sure, it all ends badly for the buggering-crazy king, blah blah blah, whatever; now how many times can I rhyme "arse" with "tarse"?

And yet... does that make it hypocrisy or tricksterism. Given that it seems to be satirising Charles's tolerance of Catholicism at his court, is it playing the moralist's self-deluding/justifying game of sneering from the moral high ground as one conjures sensationalist straw men, all the while secretly jonesing over the juicy of it all? Or is that moral import more... the raised eyebrows of feigned innocence, a prankster pushing buttons left, right and centre, and trying to infuriate further by aping righteousness: what, moi? just trying to shock? why, sir, surely you can see the virtuous message in the ending, how the play brings fiery demons down upon the sodomites! there's at least three whole lines devoted to it!

I'm not sure myself, when it comes down it, but either way, sadly that moral import makes it rather hard for me to see how I could really make this work in a modern-day adaptation. The nearest I can come to an update would be to exploit that ambiguity between celebration and condemnation of rampant licentiousness in a modern framing of a mockumentary set around a staging of the play, with a central character who's the paragon of obliviousness. Like, think Christopher Guest as the gayest ex-gay ever, the most fabulous fundamentalist in the world, piously staging a modern-day adaptation of this shocking(!) scathing(!) searing(!) satire on the sins of contemporary Sodom. An all-singing, all-dancing, all-flouncing Spectacular Spectacular that he wants "above all else to save these poor slaves to sex, you understand, to free them from -- yes, Roger, just put the elephant dildo over there, bless you!"

Anyhoo, as a musical mockumentary clearly having zero prospect of ever getting made even if I came up with a more cogent idea of what to do with the source material and wrote the fucker accordingly, I fear it must be set upon the Shelf of Don't Be Fucking Stupid. Still, needless to say, the moment my mate raised the idea of Sodom! The Musical and poked me into glancing through the first scenes of that Restoration drama, an ickle Barney Stinson in my head rose to his feet with a cry of "Challenge accepted!"

And so, yes, inevitably, I give you the opening number of Sodom! The Musical, "With My Prick I Will Govern the Land."


Scene One: An antechamber hung with Aretine's postures. Enter BOLLOX, BORASTUS the Pimpmaster General, and PUCKANELLO, the king's favourite catamite. BOLLOX wears an ermine-lined robe, gold lame trousers and a crown, and is carrying a sceptre. BORASTUS wears full-length fur coat and feathered hat. PUCKANELLO wears a loose shirt and gold lame hotpants.

Music begins. (Think "I Sing the Body Electric" as a benchmark.)

In the zenith of my lust I reign
I drink to fuck, and fuck to drink again
Let other kings keep their subjects down
In loveless fear, every queer, as a slave to the crown
My nation shall be free!
My cock shall be the only sceptre for me!
And my decree, you'll see, shall be as much a joy as a command
And with my prick I will govern the land.
Yes, with my prick I will govern the land.

Oh, by your grace from the powers above
Your princely wisdom, your princeliest of love
You let your subjects, all of us, enjoy
The freedom sweet, so complete, every tyrant would destroy

My nation shall be free!
My cock shall be the only sceptre for me!
And my decree, you'll see, shall be as much a joy as a command
And with my prick I will govern the land.
Yes, with my prick I will govern the land.

[He tosses his sceptre to BORASTUS who henceforth uses it as pimp staff.]

May all the pleasures of the cunt and arse
Be always near, pathway clear, open to your royal tarse.
When lust ignites, let your prick shine bright
And fuck all night, every night, with safety and delight.

My nation shall be free!
My cock shall be the only sceptre for me!
And my decree, you'll see, shall be as much a joy as a command
And with my prick I will govern the land.
Yes, with my prick I will govern the land.

And when your royal cock has conquered more
Than all the riches of all the kings and princes of yore.

Then may your gracious cock and balls be still
As boundless in your joy as in your boundless will.

His nation shall be free!
His cock shall be the only sceptre for me!
And his decree, you'll see, shall be as much a joy as a command
And with his prick he will govern the land.
Yes, with his prick he will govern the land.

And as it so transpires, my prick requires your judgement and care

And for your prick it's my job to prepare!

And for your prick...

For his prick...

Your royal prick...

For my prick...

I will always be there!

[End song]


Sunday, May 20, 2012

Apocrypha for the Cardinal's Coalition

 The Parable of the Presumptious Servant

And Joshua walked by the Sea of Galilee and came into Capernaum, and went into the congregation house, dark granite, oaken doors, a presbyterian interior of plain white plaster, brass plaque on the wall commemorating the dead of the Great War, cool Hebridean light slicing in through thin windows of clear glass. And he taught there, but the kirk elders muttered among themselves, saying, These teachings are unlike any we have ever heard, and if men shall follow them we cannot know what other teachings they will follow.
    And he spoke a parable to them, saying:
    The kingdom of heaven is like a young man who was to be married but who had no family, and the bride also had no family, so they would invite to the feast those friends who they loved and who loved them. And a servant, who had looked after the bride and groom always, he came to them saying, Let me be the master of the feast.
    But when it came time to invite the guests, the servant considered each in turn and deemed them unworthy.
    He came to one:
    This woman loves the sound of her own voice, he said, and will want to perform the ceremony. And the wedding will be turned upside-down and ruined.
    He come to two others.
    These two men love each other's embrace, he said, and will want to be married with them. And the wedding will be broken in half and ruined.
    And the rest were delinquents in his eyes, so he invited them not; and he invited instead all the servants under him, judging them to be worthy because they served him well.
    But the bride and the groom were always with their friends, saying what joy it would be to see them at their wedding. So all the friends came notwithstanding, and stood at the door asking if they were not invited. And when the bride and the groom came down they saw all the servants sat as guests and all the guests at the door.
    And the groom said to the master of the feast, Do you not know that these are our friends who we love and who love us? And this woman is right to love the sound of her own voice; our joy will be raised up if she performs the ceremony. And these two men are right to love each other's embrace; our joy will be doubled if they are married with us. And the rest are delinquents in your eyes because they do not serve you, but we would have them at the feast that we may serve them.
    So too shall it be when the everyman comes, said Joshua. For those who have asked to serve are become masters of servants, and do not serve; and those who are invited as guests stand at the door, and the bride and the groom will have them enter, that the joy of the feast be raised up and doubled.


Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Tick Press

You know how I have a profound animus as regards vampires, how I will happily call the undead out for the manipulative leeching bastards they are. Mindless parasitic poisonous miasmas and all that.

It seems like Undead Press is aptly named.

Hark ye, aspiring writers, to the tale of Mandy DeGeit, whose story was accepted by an anthology from aforesaid publisher and thereupon royally fucked. A gobsmackingly moronic typo introduced into the title itself. A non-gendered character turned male. The utterly spurious insertion of material suggesting animal abuse -- with an undercurrent of bestiality -- and rape.


Note that the anthology was non-paying, that the writer received "not even a contributor's copy."

The desire to simply see one's name in print is understandable, but the minimum -- let me repeat that, THE ABSOLUTE MINIMUM -- you should be getting is a contributor's copy. Getting a single contributor's copy is a non-paying market. Getting more than one copy is... arguable. And there are notable exceptions of respected indie press zines where the editor's inability to pay is made up for by the respect for those zines within the field, the fact your story will be read by Year's Best editors simply because it's in that mag. Generally though, you are selling yourself short in submitting to a non-paying market. I know, I know, you think you're not ready for the big leagues yet, that you have to pay your dues, serve your time, as an aspiring / new / beginning / novice writer.

See my first rule of writing: You are not a new writer.

Your writing is a service. You should be looking for payment for it. You should be expecting payment for it. If you don't think it's good enough to deserve payment, make it the fuck better. And crucially, remember that the minimum -- THE ABSOLUTE MINIMUM -- required to constitute even a non-paying market is that you're getting a contributor's copy.

Otherwise, that is not even a non-paying market. It's a market requiring payment from you to see your name in print. In which case, we're not talking about a market at all. We're talking vanity press. We're talking parasite press. We're talking Tick Press.

Nuff said.


Monday, May 07, 2012

BFS Awards Shortlist

The British Fantasy Society is pleased to announce the shortlist for the 2012 British Fantasy Awards. Determined by the 952 recommendations from BFS members and FantasyCon attendees and overseen by the BFS Award Jury, the shortlist is:

The Heroes; Joe Abercrombie (Gollancz)
11.22.63; Stephen King (Hodder & Stoughton)
Cyber Circus; Kim Lakin-Smith (NewCon Press)
A Dance with Dragons; George RR Martin (Harper Voyager)
The Ritual; Adam Nevill (Pan)
Among Others; Jo Walton (Tor Books)

There will be two awards in the best Novel category: The August Derleth Award for best horror novel and The Robert Holdstock Award for best fantasy novel...

I'll let you click through to read the rest.


Sunday, May 06, 2012

Coming Events

As part of the Southside Film Festival, I'll be at a screening of the Scottish BAFTA-nominated Ballads of the Book documentary, as made by my good mates, Margaret Shankland, Claire McCluskey and Julie McCrone. I believe I'll be doing a wee reading at some point, and joining Mags, Claire and Julie for a Q&A session after the screening. Should be loadsa fun, not least cause none of them have done this public appearance malarkey before and are all Oh Noes, Teh Publikz about it. So come along with your Pinteresque questions pre-prepared, and be sure to stare suspiciously at them throughout the interrogation... bwa ha ha ha!

Nah, seriously, come see it. Interviews with -- I think -- every artist on the album, literary and musical... like, for example, the ever-awesome Alasdair Gray. Some great footage from the Celtic Connections Festival, with some stunning live performances from the musicians, including Aereogramme, of course, with their wonders worked upon yours truly's very own wordage. And, you know, the whole process of putting the album together really is a great story. This is the extended cut too, so even if you caught it when it aired on the telly, grab a rare chance to see the full shebang.

18th May, 7.30 pm to 10 pm
The Shed, Loft
26 Langside Avenue