“What the hell is that terrible, anguished wailing noise?” I said to my companion at the remote self-catering cottage near Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch (sic), where I’ve been taking a well-earned break from my arduous writing schedule.
“That is the sound of you sobbing uncontrollably,” he replied.
“Well answer me this: who is that hideous, scrawny, naked bloke with a semi-erection who gurns suggestively at me every time I enter the bathroom?”
“That, dear boy, is the full length mirror.”
“OK clever clogs, explain all the boxes full of books stacked up in the hall.”
“They are unsold copies of A-Z of Cardiff, the work you disowned and refused to promote after the publishers ignorantly butchered it and turned it into a farcical mess.”
“Next you’ll be telling me that those lines of chopped-out MDMA on the table are intended for me and I’m going to snort them and then drive up to Mynydd Parys and chuck all the books into the world’s largest copper mine!”
“No comment – except to add that you seem to be under the misapprehension that I exist as a separate entity when you’re on your own and I’m merely your schizoid other self.”
“Now you’re bringing me down and making me feel blue. Time for Miles…it is the 60th anniversary of Kind of Blue after all…”
Audio: YouTube. Blue is Green by Miles Davis (1926-1991), from the 1959 album Kind of Blue
As an exiled Kaardifian, I thought your A-Z was brilliant! Don’t chuck them. I know you hate the vampire squid that is Am*z*n but tighten your sinews and put them up. They’ll sell, if only by word of mouth. Only one available at the moment and headline prices of up to £14. Swallow your pride and enjoy the moolah.