Adam Faith’s famous last words, spoken in a Stoke-on-Trent hotel room, were apparently “Channel Five is shit, isn’t it?” I am not qualified to judge whether the dead popster was right or wrong, but there is at least one programme on the channel today which deserves our attention.

6.30 PM  Wild Animal ER  An escaped weasel is in trouble.

Yesterday, V I Foxglove mentioned a ruffian from Klosterheim, or The Masque, and I notice that the day before, over at Laudator Temporis Acti, Michael Gilleland posted a marvellous bit of De Quincey:

“To begin with his figure:— Wordsworth was, upon the whole, not a well-made man. His legs were pointedly condemned by all the female connoisseurs in legs that ever I heard lecture upon that topic; not that they were bad in any way which would force itself upon your notice — there was no absolute deformity about them; and undoubtedly they had been serviceable legs beyond the average standard of human requisition; for I calculate, upon good data, that with these identical legs Wordsworth must have traversed a distance of 175 to 180,000 English miles — a mode of exertion which, to him, stood in the stead of wine, spirits, and all other stimulants whatsoever to the animal spirits; to which he has been indebted for a life of unclouded happiness, and we for much of what is most excellent in his writings. But, useful as they have proved themselves, the Wordsworthian legs were certainly not ornamental; and it was really a pity, as I agreed with a lady in thinking, that he had not another pair for evening dress parties — when no boots lend their friendly aid to masque our imperfections from the eyes of female rigorists — the elegantes formarum spectatrices. A sculptor would certainly have disapproved of their contour.”

From Literary Reminiscences, chapter X (William Wordsworth)

De Quincey seems to think that the wearing of boots can pull the wool over the eyes of female rigorists, but this was certainly not the case with Marigold Chew. Indeed, it was the boots Dobson trudged around in that often caused her acute, even physical, disgust. The out of print pamphleteer had a huge and unlikely collection of boots, including those of the Austrian Postal Service and the Nova Scotian Seabird Tagging Patrol. Unlike John Prescott, he usually managed to pair them up correctly.*

* NOTE : In his forthcoming mem-wa A View From The Foothills, Chris Mullin MP writes: “[Prescott’s] black mood is compounded by the fact that he has come to work this morning wearing unmatching shoes. We are permitted a brief giggle at this. Towards the end of the meeting a minion appears with a plastic bag containing an assortment of shoes.”

If time moved backwards, Hannah More (1745-1833) could have been the offspring of Dobson and Prudence Foxglove:

She helped to initiate a line of publications called Cheap Repository Tracts. These were inexpensive chapbooks – softcover books of four to twenty-four pages that often were illustrated with woodcuts. More embarked on this project, which she said “barely leaves me time to eat”, because she was disturbed that contemporary chapbooks were secular works that often were ribald. She told Hester Piozzi that “30,000 Hawkers are maintain’d by this dissolute Traffic, and Boat loads of it [chapbooks] are sent away from the Trading Towns to infect the villages”. She wanted to circulate “Religious and Useful Knowledge as an antidote to the poison continually flowing thro’ the channel of vulgar and licentious publications”.

The “religious and useful knowledge” would be contained in short stories about “Striking Conversions, Holy Lives, Happy Deaths, Providential Deliverances, Judgements on the Breakers of Commandments, Stories of Good and Wicked Apprentices, Hardened Sinners, Pious Servants &c”. More wrote many tracts herself (they were published anonymously but those marked Z were written by her). The tracts are well written and often describe accurately the lives of the rural poor, but they always have a predictable ending. According to Anne Stott, More’s biographer, “everything always turns out for the best provided one goes to church and keeps the sabbath”.

From The Peculiar Life Of Sundays by Stephen Miller

In looking through Thaumaturgia, or Elucidations Of The Marvellous the other day, for that quotation about the delusional glass man, I came across this:

We shall conclude our astrological strictures with the following advertisement, which affords as fine a satirical specimen of quackery as is to be met with. It is extracted from “poor Robin’s” almanack for 1773; and may not be without its use, to many at the present day. We will vouch for it being harmless, but as we are not in the secret of all that it contains, our readers must endeavour to get the information that may be wanted, on certain important points, from other quarters…

ADVERTISEMENT.

“The best time to cut hair. How moles and dreams are to be interpreted. When most proper season to bleed. Under what aspect of the moon best to draw teeth, and cut corns. Pairing of nails, on what day unlucky. What the kindest sign to graft or inoculate in; to open bee-hives, and kill swine. How many hours boiling my Lady Kent’s pudding requires. With other notable questions, fully and faithfully resolved, by me Sylvester Patridge, student in physic and astrology, near the Gun in Moorfields.”

“Of whom likewise may be had, at reasonable rates, trusses, antidotes, elixirs, love-powders. Washes for freckles, plumpers, glass-eyes, false calves and noses, ivory-jaws, and a new receipt to turn red hair into black.”

“The Glass Man came in a variety of forms. He might be a urinal, an oil lamp or other glass receptacle, or else he might himself be trapped within a glass bottle… [There is] a sudden plethora of literary Glass Men. One of these is Cervantes’ Glass Licentiate, Tomàs Rodaja. Obsessed with the idea that he is made of glass, and traumatized by any physical contact, he refuses to wear shoes or any restrictive clothing. He eats only fruit offered to him in a urinal-pouch (vasera de orinal) on the end of a stick, and drinks fresh water with his hands. He sleeps outdoors or huddled in some hayloft, takes refuge in the country during a storm, and walks in the middle of the street to avoid injury from falling roof tiles.”

From An odd kind of melancholy: reflections on the glass delusion in Europe (1440-1680) by Gill Speak

The invaluable Fed By Birds provides a link to the article, which is Mr Key’s  recommended reading for today. I left a comment on the post saying that I was sure there was a quotation buried in the 2003-2006 Hooting Yard Archives about a delusionist who believed his legs were made of glass. And voila!, here it is:

“The other case, as related by Van Swieten, in his commentaries upon Boerhaave, is that of a learned man, who had studied, till be fancied his legs to be of glass: in consequence of which he durst not attempt to stir, but was constantly under anxiety about them. His maid bringing one day some wood to the fire, threw it carelessly down; and was severely reprimanded by her master, who was terrified not a little for his legs of glass. The surly wench, out of all patience with his megrims, as she called them, gave him a blow with a log upon the parts affected; which so enraged him, that he instantly rose up, and from that moment recovered the use of his legs.” – Anon (“An Oxonian”), Thaumaturgia, Or Elucidations Of The Marvellous (1835).

The flag is black and white, symbolising the whiteness of snow and the darkness of Arctic areas. 

The Defence Minister is the most successful female boxer in Finnish history. The Foreign Minister has a photo gallery on his website which is, er, startling. The Head of State “plays songs that are usually considered bad”.

I speak of the Kingdom of Valtio. This seems to me the kind of place where Hooting Yard, rather than being an obscure internet blog, would be a daily newspaper. I note that applications for citizenship are accepted from all and sundry. I shall be applying today, and I suggest that all my readers do likewise.

Discovered via Mr Eugenides.

 

Three years ago, I drew your attention to William Hope Hodgson, a strangely compelling writer. To see that post, go to the archive here, and scroll down to February 13^th and Breakfast Of Hideousness!

I have just read Hodgson’s 1909 novel The Ghost Pirates, and though I could witter on about its peculiarities of narration, language, and even punctuation, there is one particular point that struck me and which I wish to share with you. Note that the copy I was reading was a first edition. On page 181 we find this:

The ropes were foul of one another in a regular ‘bunch o’ buffers.’ *

The asterisk alerts us to the following footnote:

* Modified from the original.

What in the name of heaven can this mean? What was the original version of ‘bunch o’ buffers’? Why was it modified? This being the first edition, ‘the original’ must presumably refer to the manuscript. Is it the only change from the manuscript to find its way into the printed book? And why tell us, in any case, given that if we were not told we would never know?

I am both perplexed and inspired by this footnote. My perplexity I have explained, my inspiration is something readers may well encounter at Hooting Yard in the near future – the inexplicable or paradoxical or gratuitous or tangential or bonkers or winsome or wilful footnote.

“Kitchen Groanings addressed to the Parlour : a pamphlet so called, published fifty years ago. It is the spirited remonstrance of some angry cook-wench, or discontented housemaid, against lazy footmen with their ruffles, their canes, their bags, and powdered heads, who run away with the pecuniary perquisites, or, as they were at that period called, vails, without having their due proportion of the hard work of the house. This publication is said to have been actually produced by one of the sisterhood, whose cause it pleads; and, considering the quarter from whence it issued, is not badly written.”

From Anecdotiana; or, A Library of Anecdote. Facts and Opinions, Historical, Biographical, Critical &c. Collected and Recorded by An Eminent Literary Character (I. J. Chidley, London 1841)

I am not quite sure, but I think Dobson may have produced a Kitchen Groanings pamphlet of his own.

Pansy Cradledew has been reading The Law And Customs Relating To Gloves, Being An Exposition Historically Viewed Of Ancient Laws, Customs, And Uses In Respect Of Gloves, And Of The Symbolism Of The Hand And Glove In Judicial Proceedings by James William Norton-Kyshe (Stevens & Haynes, London 1901). Among the fascinating material in this book, she has drawn my attention to these glove-related nuggets of interest:

Musonius, a philosopher who lived at the close of the first century of Christianity, among other invectives against the corruption of the age, says “it is shameful that persons in perfect health should clothe their hands and feet with soft and hairy coverings”. (page 4)

About Queens, we read that Anne Boleyn was marvellously dainty about her gloves. She had a nail which turned up at the side, and it was the delight of Queen Catharine to make her play at cards without her gloves, in order that the deformity might disgust King Henry. It is also an historical fact that Queen Elizabeth was extravagant, fastidious, and capricious in the extreme about her gloves, and used to display them to advantage in playing the virginal. (page 55)

It was considered unbecoming if not undignified in olden days to wear gloves when visiting the royal stables. The reason given seems strange, but it is an ancient established custom in Germany, that whoever enters the stables of a prince, or great man, with his gloves on his hands, is obliged to forfeit them by a fee to the servants. (page 83)

I have been much enjoying the Times Archive Blog recently. Old news can be so much more appealing than new news – that is, news – particularly when, as in this case which I belatedly bring to your attention, it features a postie toppling into a ditch, a scene that could come straight from a Hooting Yard story:

About noon on Thursday as a labourer, in the employ of Mr Cooper, of Pyrford – a village about seven miles from Guildford – was passing through Pondfield, in the neighbourhood of his master’s farm, he espied an object in the ditch, which attracted his attention. On examination the object, which was nearly covered with snow, turned out to be a man named Tappin, the messenger who delivers post letters in the outlying districts of which Pyrford and Wisley form part. Mr Cooper was at once communicated with, and he speedily arranged for the delivery of the letters, while with equal promptitude the messenger was assisted from his bed of snow, where he had been for some hours. Tappin’s account is that he got into the drift and pitched headlong into the ditch, when he was too exhausted to extricate himself.

As the Times’ archivist notes, how pleasing it is that the reporter assures us of the safe delivery of the post before mentioning the rescue of the hapless Tappin. I suspect strongly that, almost a century and a half after his ditch trauma, Postie Tappin may be resurrected as a Hooting Yard character.

For quite some time now, ever since I had a revelatory picnicking experience in a muddy field, I have been on the lookout for a proper Etheric Portal featuring the Circle of Power. Thanks to the Counterknowledge website, I have at last tracked one down. Doesn’t it look reliable?

According to the blurb on the Ultimate Metaphysical Power Tools website, this particular Etheric Portal is “Brand New: Psychotronic 8, Etheric Portal Plus Supreme, Version 3.0, FEATURING THE CIRCLE OF POWER. Now Made With New ULTIMATE Orgontek (Orgone Matrix Material)”.

I found all those capital letters pretty exciting, and if you are sensible enough to go to the site, you will see lots and lots of bright colours too, making for a really braintastic visit. Here is the full spec of what must be the best Etheric Portal I’ve ever seen for sale:

“This is the ultimate Psychotronic / Life Force Energy Enhanced Radionics / Psionics workstation, nothing even comes close to this powerful subtle etheric energy instrument.

Featuring:

The Circle Of Power, Version 3.0

Variable-Capacitance Psychotronic / Radionic Tuner Control panels (2 Rad Cases 12 Dials each)

Photon Light Force Energy Projector Box: Vogel Cut Crystal (double terminated, 12 sided) with Blue Light Beam Projecting through Crystal and Radiating the center Beamer Witness Plate with a high vibrational energy bath

Scalar wave technology

Magnetron Technology

Life Force Energy Technology

Vibrational Shape Wave Energy Patterns

Sacred Geometry

Crystal Power Technology

Electronic Amplifier Module Transmitting System with 2 Transmitting Antenna

Orgone E (Energy) Block Etheric Energy Projection System

Sound Wave Input Feature

Fixed and Variable Frequency Tuning System

This amazing workstation features the upgraded and powerful etheric energy reactor the Circle Of Power, version 3.0, 5 years in the making its finally released to the public. Now you can do 8 operations simultaneous at one time for both your Trend/Remedy and or Target/Witness.  

Scalar wave technology combined with life force energy technology, Russian style Psychotronics, and Metaphysical Radionics makes this the most powerful Radionics / Psychotronic instrument available at this time.

Finally a Radionics machine with enough etheric juice (fuel) to open a portal to other energy systems. The Psychotronic 8’s CIRCLE OF POWER is a vortex of flowing universal energy or “chi”, it can be said that it is an etheric energy reactor in the subtle energy realms.”

I was so mind-numbed (in a good way) by all this that I had to go and lie down, so I didn’t explore the website thoroughly enough to gather how much it costs. As far as I recall, it says somewhere that it’s “under $3,000”. Frankly, I wouldn’t care if it was over $3,000 – or over $30,000. I want one, and I want one now!

Today, for reasons I shall not bore you with, my attention is drawn to the 2005 Hungarian film Fekete kefe, directed by Roland Vranik. This synopsis could scarcely fail to entice any devoted Hooting Yardist:

Four fake chimney sweeps prowl on rooftops, in pubs & flats of Budapest and in the stomach of a goat. Love, history, friendship and religion pull each other’s weights but in the end there is absolutely no solution. Zoli, Döfi, Papi and Anti goes to the rooftops one morning to sweep the chimneys but they are meeting a strange housing-estate-goat so they are getting totally confused and everything goes chaos. After their hard day they find the key to escape in the stomach of the goat…

It’s shot in black & white, too. I may have to write about a quartet of fake chimney sweeps and a “strange housing estate goat”, and should probably do so before seeing what I have already convinced myself is a masterwork of cinema.

The complete version of the sign concludes: “Melancholy, Insomnia, And All Nerve Pains And Diseases. 2s/9d Per Box, Post Free.”

A couple of comments at the hectic Caucasian Lullaby discussion reminded me about Charles Babbage and his hatred of “street disturbances”. This was the subject of a brief snippet posted here as long ago as 19 January 2004. I thought I would dig it out of the archive and reproduce it here. Much to my annoyance, I failed to identify the source of my quotations, and now I cannot recall where I read them. Very slapdash.

When he wasn’t inventing the computer, Charles Babbage spent much of his time getting het up about what he called “street disturbances”. These seem to have consisted almost entirely of what most people call “music”. He wrote a helpful list of “instruments of torture permitted by the Government to be in daily and nightly use in the streets of London”:

Organs, Bagpipes, Brass bands, Accordians, Fiddlers, Halfpenny whistles, Harps, Tom-toms, Harpsichords, Trumpets, Hurdy-gurdies, Shouting out objects for sale, Flageolets, Religious canting, Drums, Psalm-singing.

And apart from the Government, responsible for allowing this mayhem, Babbage knew who to blame: “Tavern-keepers, Public-houses, Girl-shops, Beer-shops, Coffee-shops, Servants, Children, Visitors from the country, Ladies of doubtful virtue, Occasionally titled ladies; but these are almost invariably of recent elevation, and deficient in that taste which their sex usually possess”.

A letter arrives from OutaSpaceman:

Dear Frank, I have been doing a bit of research into Barbaric tribes* and found this paragraph (relating to the Visigoths) on the hhg2g site:

“There was still time for one last Gothic comedy. The panicking King Wamba called up priests to the army to prepare for a full-scale Moorish invasion, but the newly armed priests threw their lot in with a group of revolutionary nobles. In what must be one of the most bizarre coups of all time, Wamba was drugged and dressed as a monk. The rebels also shaved his head, because to the Visigoths long hair was a symbol of sovereignty. The embarrassed king stood aside for the rebel leader Ervigius. Then, when Ervigius’ grandson Witiza died, a brief civil war of succession put King Roderick on the throne in 710 in place of Witiza’s son, Achila. It was an inauspicious year for the Visigoths.”

Oh, to be ruled by Panicking King Wamba…

Yours, OutaSpaceman

*This is considered to be the finest opening line of any letter Mr Key has ever received.