This is not a pretty story. In fact, it is disgusting, disgraceful and full of derangement. It’s an anniversary of darkness, my friends, a hideously flawed romance of addicton and depravity. Four years ago on a crazy rainy night full of flooding and fog, i kissed the devil in the front seat of his car. I didn’t realize it then, but like Persephone, I had innocently tasted the seeds that would lead me back over and over again into darkness, torment and pain. The lair of the underworld is nothing if not addictive. And the devil comes in many guises. Beware, lest you too, fall innocent victim to the pure evil that awaits just outside your front door…
But look, how sweet! Anyone would think we were some kind of normal, happy couple, like the ones on my street that ride bikes together and have cups of tea together on their front porch in the morning after going for an early morning jog with their dog. Oh, how we smile…
And here, the master of the machine, the mad music maker that played the tunes my red shoes could not stop dancing to til I died. “Outlaw rock’n'roll” indeed. What else would the devil play?
And this is the devil’s chariot. I should’ve known when the masses parted for us like the red sea as we drove into Meredith. Hailing and worshipping us like false gods, golden cows, demonic lord and lady of the night..
Satan himself. Look at the crazy man-magic going on in the right hand corner of this picture. While Ruari the Red King just stands innocently by… “Nuthin’ going on here folks, just keep moving…”
And here is where he made me do bad, bad things. In front of 20,000 people I was forced by powers beyond my control to run naked onto a field of rock’n'roll footballers and jump into the devil’s arms. That’s right, stripped of my clothes, my dignity, everything..
He would always give me a good talking to after I’d done the bad things. I would have to say “Yes master” and then he would whip me. And I did not like it. Ever. At all. And I did try and do better next time.
Mug shots. Wanted. In Hell. Mad Reward.
He seemed to be PROUD to be in a band called The Fckups. To LIKE playing loud bass. To ENJOY the bad company of drug-taking, booze drinking, glass-smashing punks. All I wanted was to go out and have a nice time, to be taken somewhere respectable. Was that so much to ask?
Why oh why didn’t I see the signs? Did I not listen when I tried to talk to him about Tarot and how spiritual it all was, and he’d take another shot of Jamesons, throw back his head with an evil laugh and say “Give me a Tower with a Three of Swords chaser!” It sends shivers down my spine just thinking of it…
Oh yes, he would cook for me. Food like you’ve never tasted before in your life. Food that would send me into frenzies of ecstasy. Food that was laced with addictive powers that would lure me back over and again when everything else had failed. Sprinkled with his own special spices, laced with man magic… this was indeed Hell’s Kitchen. And I couldn’t get enough.
And one of the finest tricks of the devil is to look all cute and like a little wee puppy, like he is so harmless and adorable and Irish boy that how could you ever even think he was the Evil Puppeteer of Perversion, the Lord of the Forsaken, Raj of the Rajneeshi Rebellion of Doom? Never!
At the end of the day, all I can do is send a warning out there to other innocents like myself. If you find the devil lurking on a street corner and he says he wants to play, don’t be fooled! He is about to spin some serious voodoo shit on your ass. Pick it up, and run, girl, run !
RUN T0 THE HILLS….RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!! (And just hope he chases you, like all good devils do….)
Happy Anniversary (whatever that means!) Baby. Thanks, it’s been fun. x