This morning I wake up still a little drunk but with that particular lucidity reserved for idiots at this time of the day. I wake up and I see beloved Class War and the BBC going nuts over a video of the Queen performing a fascist salute at the age of seven. I look at it for a little while and I start to feel like I've swallowed some sort of affected nuclear reaction. For some reason it throws me straight back at my childhood. Brief run ins with these arseholes. Occasionally brushing the shoulder of someone seriously fucking rich. The other night on the way back from a gig walking through the financial district there they are. Horribly healthy old men, moneyed paedophiles celebrating our deaths, and I walk to them drunk and I tell them they should die and I am dying and I die right there on top of them and all they do is laugh becauae to them when I die it is the death rattle of a child and that child will never speak again and when they die it is sanctity and blamelessness and no longer being hunted by the truth and an heir and an immediate succession of abstraction,, a transference of hatred, of tiny genitals,,,, of hex, a movement in heaven. I can't actually bring myself to watch the video. All I can see in the freeze.frame is Edward the VIII coming quietly into my room. I am a baby. I am infinite. I am god. And he is laughing. And I am taking his cock. And he is angry. And I am humiliating myself. And we are all standing out in the courtyard smeering ourselves in blood and shit and food. And the tiny queen is prancing up and down on the backs of slaughtered bodies in Dachau, and she is waving a Union Jack and performong a Nazi salute and I am screaming for the gates to stay open yet they close. And now am I just screaming. I am saying it is a very different type of molestation. I am screaming. My nose is streaming snot. And I am fucking huge. And my voice will fill up the ears of the lost when I die to die a death that won't itself ever really die to sup from, limp of a corpse.