Another great track from England's Dreaming Spires by Village Green Machine
Dear reader, this is Charlotte Hay-Smith speaking (Miss), Mark Lemon's great Aunt.
I have been asked by his Village Green Machine popular music group to communicate with his fans far and wide, since there has been a little problem with Sir Percival Spitfire this week. He has been arrested for pinching a traffic wardens bottom, and is currently detained at her majesties pleasure, awaiting psychiatric reports. He was picked up, near the children's hospital, in an advanced state of inebriation and I am told it may be some time before he returns to writing this column about that groove group, the Village Green Machine. I believe he may be recommended for a place at a secure unit, where his difficulties will be monitored by a fully qualified team, while, for reasons of national security and public well being his chair will be bolted to the floor. We must all be grateful to the Twilight Top Security Home For The Criminally Insane, Redditch, for their unstinting dedication to duty and gallant efforts in rehabilitation therapy. You never know, Sir Percival may recover sufficiently to return to work sooner than you think.
Meanwhile it is my job to stand in his shoes for one week at least, a very smelly labour of love though that may be. My nephew Mark has in some ways turned out quite well, and although I consider beat music an aesthetic anathema appealing in an evil way to humankind's base instincts, he may still get a mention in my will. Here he is, talking about one of his beat compositions.
'' The Ghost Princess Of Aston Hall communicates an hallucinatory inner vision of Diana. When I wrote the song, I was as touched and moved by her passing as most other British people were, a sentiment which surely was universal. In this song, I went deep inside myself, and saw her, in my creative act, as a sublimely beautiful spirit, manifesting from a world beyond. She had reappeared from the light, her face radiant and smiling, a smile of indescribable joy and warmth, very radiant. I had an almost hallucinogenic vision as I wrote from my subconscious mind. It is beautiful, such a lovely picture of her I imagine, which I carry in my imagination to this day.
I would like to add that at the time of her passing, a lady I love very much passed from my own life, her name was Beatrice Passmore. The song was equally inspired by her. Although the song is about death, that word we dread, it is a very positive sentiment. It expresses an idea of a lovely woman returning as a visual spirit, to an ancient mansion, her ghost returning along a great corridor, having been back to the great house. Then she returns to the light, a place of love. I chose Aston Hall, because it is an extraordinary mansion of many centuries standing, near where I live. Maybe Whitley Court partly inspired me too. I hope the song inspires the type of aesthetic and emotional experience I had when I wrote it. In no way should it be lowering, it should be elating.''
As you can see, my nephew, who is in some ways quite normal, is capable of intellectual thought. I bought him a book on English Grammar, and converted him to sensible shoes after an unfortunate floor damaging incident at my home. I believe he has been up in the daytime this week, laying down some more evil, er I mean splendid, popular music. Here he is again-
''What have I done this week, well I went in with my engineer to the church hall, and recorded a big fuzztone bass part on a song of mine called 'Kitten Power'. I just produced this track, it has really come together. Its a wall of guitars, a minimalistic garage rocker. The bass sounds like it did on Psychodrama.
Also, I put some rock & roll lead guitar on Pocketful Of Roses, which is one of the best songs I've written. It will be on the second album. It is a song inspired by Grace Brothers, they of the 70's comedy Are You Being Served. In this one, a married man goes for a fitting, which in a manner of speaking, he gets. Its very 'ooh Mrs', it is pure 1970s bawdy titillates. Mrs Slocombe has 17 army officers inspecting her pussy on this one, you get the idea. The track sounds like a 60s bar band playing r&b, it sounds like the Rolling Stones Aftermath LP. Its one of my favourite recordings I've done.''
I, Mark's aunt Charlotte, would never have a person in my house who had had sexual intercourse before marriage. I am aware there are randy young yobbos everywhere, and I have advised my nephew Mark that if any perverts enter his room, he must administer a firm blow to their jaw. Indeed I have devised a little poem, to encourage him to be careful. Here it is-
There are perverts on the ceiling there are perverts on the floor
Perverts in the attic, perverts wanging galore
If you see a pervert in the middle of the night
Clutch your Teddy bear in case your carnal appetites
Should tempt you from the longing
For a maiden young and fair
A Heidi type of girl with wreaths of flaxen coloured hair
The tea set that I bought you
Mark my nephew was not meant
To turn you from a normal boy
Into one who
Words fail me, I cannot continue. Next week, Sir Percival Spitfire may be corresponding from his cell but if not I will return to charm and chastise, or Mark's friend Kevin may be updating events on Village Green Machine.
Charlotte Hay- Smith (Miss) A.L.A.R.M, P.H.D.