Anti-Valentine 2019. There must be an irony somewhere in the fact that when I’m in the Great Dumps the best solace comes from monsters, oddballs, dissidents, mutineers and fauna of that ilk. Thus with this year’s Anti-Mawk Â Festival. Too despondent to organize the usual alternative merry shindig, I was thinking of cancelling it when the Renegade Uncouth Larvae of the Final Void crawled out of the inter-dimensional woodwork and came to me with a maaaaarvelous idea: Why not have an Universal Day of Lamentation, Detestation and All-purpose Kvetching instead? See what I mean? Such a spiffing notion.
So, that’s what we’ll be having. The event will take place in and around the pond at Vicky Park. (In, literally, just in case the Deep Ones wish to attend .“Bumba knows they have good cause to grumble, poor things) As usual, you’re all invited. You’ll all have free access to food, drink, drugs, shows, poetry recitals, communal defenestrations, workshops, effigy burnings and anything that might be going. This year, as a bonus, there’ll be a competition for the Best Carping of 2018. Prize yet to be decided but the toss is between a Garrote Florido (Flowery Club) and a fortnight cruise for two to the slimy canals that coil around the fringes of Unknown Kadath.
The gaudeamus, or rather the lamentates, will take place tomorrow, Wednesday 13th. Time to be advised, in Lemurian code, via the Today’s program, just to aggravate John Humphys or whichever State Stodge is presenting it. Keep your ears peeled, folks and see you all there, I hope.
Here, to put you in the mood, have a link to one of Tom Lehrer’s best on the subject of these ghastly “Whatever Day/Week/Year/Century. capers: