Vincent Cable MP
Constituency Office
2a Lion Road, Twickenham TW1 4JQ
Dear Mr Cable,
Please forgive me for what may seem like such a conceit. I am writing to you because I am in debt and disabled and I might imminently be sued - or murdered - by a group of beings and formalised epigenetic meme known as 'The BBC'.
I say 'group of beings' and 'formalised epigenetic meme' because I am mentally ill and have no understanding of what you may call reality. Technically speaking, and in the view of medical professionals who would be able to testify in court, I am insane.
To me, life is not unlike living on a strange and distant planet, with rules and conventions which I cannot but regard as incomprehensible. Thus I can make no distinction between what you may judge to be befitting and what you may regard as lunacy. I see representations on the television device in my room. There are beings like me often appearing engaged in activities which have no logical premise. Due to my illness, I can see no value, philosophy or aesthetics in discussing current ‘events’, ‘news’ or ‘drama’. To me one may as well play an oboe to an ant at the bottom of a disused well in the land-locked and troubled country of the Central African Republic. Indeed, why not copulate with the ant? Why not marry the ant? Why can the ant not write a book as great as Turgenev? Can you tell me that? I would like to know.
In 1989 I was diagnosed with Eichmann-Delawney Cognitive Scopodromic Disorder - or EDCSD. The diagnosis was made by the then famous Doctor Herman Squane of the Virginia Baumgardner Institute in Bracknell.
Subsequently I have been under the care of family and friends - and medical professionals like Doctor Squane. To alleviate the condition I take 600mg of Phenodihydrochloride benzerex every day. The medication keeps me sedated and at times almost rational. For example; I am now mostly able to defecate into the correct receptacles - and I can apply clothes to my body before making commercial transactions.
Sadly, two years ago I was diagnosed with a rare form of Pernicious Squagalopathy - or PS. I was treated in what appeared to be a 'hospital' for several weeks. This condition has left me largely confined to my room. I cannot now tolerate any kind of stress or confrontation. The slightest apprehension may lead to me having a heart attack and/or liver failure instantly.
So, Mr Cable, to the point:
I believe in the freedom of possibilities.
I believe, I truly do, in Ted Smoothie of 22 East Hackney Road. Those solitary words – ‘Ted Smoothie of 22 East Hackney Road’ - conjure him into existence: It must be the early Seventies, Ted works on the trains. He has an outside toilet and iron stairs at the back of the flat…and masturbates over pictures of young women he finds in The Hackney Chronicle.
God help me, I know every detail, right down to the cut-throat razor and Brylcreem by the sink, the bare light reflected in the patinated mirror as he shaves, the speed in the cabinet he takes for his problem.
God damn it, his name is magic. The world is made of language, did you know? Perhaps one day we will wear the product of our linguistic intentionality on our skins - like the octopus - but ultimately our minds may conjure worlds into being. These worlds must exist. They must be brought to life with language.
And the great thing, sir, is that these new worlds can harm no-one. They inhabit a fictive realm of pure imagination where the mind is inviolate and the body is left behind.
In the meantime, sir, I trust you understand that I live in an embryonic, twilit world of dreams and fantasy. I submit the following to you, and ask you to witness how a new world is brought to life, a new world I can only dream of, in my sickened body and mind…
…so you, sir, can judge me...
Stephanie Flanders
Sex and Drugs Episode