Mahogany Overcoat...

I,LEONARDO da Finchi,have just returned from a meeting with my very understanding and underhand undertakers,B'Stard's Upmarket Burials,Wacko Clacko's most esteemed - and expensive- Funeral Directors,whose funerals start at a very reasonable TEN-THOUSAND quid.Once my corpse has been pickled,that is,embalmed- for I wish to remain intact for as long as possible- my remains will be placed in a solid mahogany overcoat resplendent with gold- plated fittings,handles- don't want the pall- bearers to drop the damn thing- and solid- brass plate,which will bear the following inscription:'Herein lies the pickled corpse of the late,and extremely lamented,Leonardo da Finchi,renowned for his Art,Comedic Comments,Mario Lanza Impressions,Insults,Caustic Remarks and other endearing qualities for which he was infamous....He will be sadly missed by all the many thousands who came to love him...

Leo lied- he FULLY intends to be around for many years to come...I have commented before,that there are swimming in Clacko's turquoise sea a shoal of voracious Great White Sharks...

I HAVE a dream...In the not -so -idle dream I see a magnificent luxury automobile slowly pull up outside my Great Clacko home,a humble abode in the area known as Lymitonia Lynxadia...

Because it is warm and sunny,a large number of individuals are milling around a very strange -looking parade of shops and buildings,including a small church,,butchers,bakers,candlestick makers,confectioners,betting shop,barbers,and a knocking shop-well,it IS a red- light district...Vicar doesn't like it one bit- shame.More cucumber sandwiches,Rev?

I am wondering why there is congregating outside my home such a large group of excited - looking individuals...Then I see it.Taking up three parking spaces is a magnificent sight,an enormous gold-plated Rolls Royce Golden Phantom resplendent with the large,gold-plated radiator grill and the iconic,solid - gold Spirit of Ecstasy symbol,the most magnificent and splendid insignia in all of automobile history...The windows are tinted violet and the heavy,gold- plating of the larger -than -life wheels shine and sparkle in the late afternoon sun.There is no mistaking the stately appearance of one of the most expensive and magnificent -looking cars the world has ever known.After gazing for sometime at the dream -like luster of the gleaming,gold -plated bodywork one of the 4 armor- plated doors of the legendary luxury car slowly opens...From the depths of the posh,plush interior emerges the very imposing figure of a very tall and broad-shouldered chauffeur resplendent in full uniform...He gestures to me to get inside the cavernous interior of what must weigh several tonnes...I slide into one of the soft leather seats,unsure as to whether or not I am dreaming...The interior smells of both leather and money...Once settled,the chauffeur asks me if I would perhaps like a drink from the Roller's cocktail cabinet,or perhaps a little Beluga Caviar...I am aware of the quiet hum of the air- conditioning...
After drinking a glass of fine red wine and sampling some Beluga Caviar at more than a hundred and fifty pounds an ounce,we head for the open road,..Because the road is very straight and almost clear of any traffic,we are able to accelerate up to a speed of more than a hundred and twenty miles an hour-bollocks to the law.Bridges,landmarks and road signs streak by in a flash,and although there are a number of potholes in the middle of the main road,the ride is as smooth as silk,there being not the slightest bump as the fast- moving Golden Phantom easily negotiates the biggest of Clacko's craters...What is that wailing sound?Is it a banshee?No,its Clacko's Finest,Almighty Plod....

THERE IS,in my humble abode,a boring,brain-dead robot,which is activated every time the phone is picked up... How can one best deal with an automaton,one which automatically spouts the same old crap every time one puts one's delicate shell -likes against the ear-piece?Well,there is something which one could try,though am not certain it would totally resolve the situation..Yes?I'm all ears,please proceed to give me the benefit of your great wisdom and experience in handling such tedious,tiresome technological pains in the butt...Okay,you asked for my advice,and you are going to get it whether you like it or not,and I suspect that you,or at least,the robot,will NOT like it...Go into the garage and get a great big sledgehammer - and proceed to smash Sir Alexander Graham Bell's celebrated invention to the point where only bits of wire, plastic and metal remain....There would then be no telephone,and no droning telephone robot,it having been permanently silenced...Ah-I have a better idea,one which does not involve GRH - Grievous Robotic Harm.What?Use a Public Call Box-assuming it has not already been vandalized by a demonic demolition dude wielding a massive sledgehammer a' la the wonderful comedic character,Basil Fawlty!!A phone given the full Basil treatment will most definitely end up very faulty indeed!

In my opinion,Fawlty Towers is by far the finest sitcom ever created.The reason why only 12 episodes were ever made is because the BBC refused to pay the brilliant John Cleese the money he felt he was worth...Of the twelve episodes,The Germans is the funniest- witness Cleese's hilarious Addie Hitler impression!Wunderbar!

Feeling the Ovefdraft....

SEVERAL WEEKS ago,my beloved Bank hit me,Leonardo da Monetbags with a 50 quid overdraft fee which,being the peaceful,Buddha-like chappy that I am,was met with a feeling of total good will and equanimity towards the baskets responsible,namely the bank- shirkers themselves.Yes,Leo clearly remembers his extremely peaceful reaction on reading the welcome,and eloquently-worded epistle:'Dear Mr L. Monetbags,Esq.,We at Arklays Bank are delighted to inform you  that you are now fifty pounds to the poor after having incurred a well - deserved overdraft penalty for going into the red by the sum of £66.06...Is that not the Number of the Beast?We bank- workers very much hope that you will not see red and go into Incredible Hulk mode,as is the usual custom with cussed  customers such as yourself.Please forgive us,Mr Monetbags Esq.,but we have wet ourselves with mirth at your expensive expense!Now you know how we greedy bankers make our billions!Oops,almost used the W-word!

Yours insincerely,

The faceless Bank Staff.

PS.Could Arklays Bank offer you a loan to help pay off the overdraft fee?At a suitable high rate of interest,of course...With a bit of luck,you will once again go into the red,thus owing us another fifty quid- every little helps!'

I RECENTLY read on the Internet that one of our greatest living geniuses,Stephen Fry,attempted to kill himself whilst filming for the BBC in 2012..I have enormous admiration for what I call the Old Fry-Up,who has used his celebrity to help bring  Bipolar Disorder out into the open.It would have been a great loss to the world had Stephen Fry succeeded in taking his own life.Although I'm not a genius,I can be very creative and productive whilst in manic mode which,unlike it's opposite polarity,the Black Abyss,is relatively tolerable.In my opinion,the strong flow of creative energy,manic energy,issues forth from the soul,or Solar Self,as I prefer to call it.Both the famous Dutch artist,Vincent van Gogh and the late comedian,Spike Milligan,suffered from Bipolar Disorder,or Manic Depression,as the condition was called up to 20 or more years ago.I call the deep,dark,depressive mode the Black Shithole of Calcutta,or Zone of The Zombies!

Shocking Visitation...

SEVERAL DAYS ago,whilst I was having a phone chat with a friend in deepest,darkest Cornwall,I was forced to face a life-long fear...I opened the frontdoor to see a very attractive woman police officer,who asked me re phone calls which I had been making to a certain female painter and decorator in the wee hours of the morning....The said officer said that,should it happen again,I would be arrested and charged with making nuisance phone calls.I told the police officer,who was very nice,that I have Bipolar Disorder,and tend to do unwise things when in Manic Mode,which is true.

Twenty four hours later,I heard a very insistent ring at my frontdoor....I intuitively knew it was the Old Bill!However,this time it was not a woman police officer,but a guy resembling the Incredible Hulk!!The police officer,who wore spectacles,asked if he could come in....he was at least 6feet 2 inches in height and almost as broad- he had feet like flipping plod,sorry,clod -hoppers- must have weighed at least 16 stone- I almost shit a pile of bricks!He was actually a very decent guy,but I was so terrified I could not utter a single word...

WILL VERY soon be a YAP- a Young -Aged Pensioner!I absolutely refuse to grow old gracefully...I somehow do not think too many people of my age can sing like I can,though there are one or two individuals who appear to take great pleasure in informing me that,as a singer,I am total rubbish.Such remarks really help one to aspire to be the best that they can possibly be...The FACT is,that however good or otherwise one's voice maybe,singing is excellent exercise for both the lungs and diaphragm;it also helps to raise one's mood,or vibrational energy,and THAT must be a very good thing indeed.I will never allow other people's put-downs to stop me from doing what I know to be one of the most beneficial of all activities and exercises- never!Those who DO allow others to stifle their self-expression and vibrancy of being often prematurely end up resting peacefully in what I call a wooden overcoat,or coffin.Conformity is deadly to one's spiritual,mental and physical well-being.I am absolutely certain that one of the very greatest and most enlightened medical doctors of the last hundred years,Dr Patch Adams,would wholeheartedly agree with these sentiments.