The Blank Page

The blank page is about 192mm wide by about a million light years long.

The blank slate is a tabula rasa, your life little girl is an open book which men will want to write on.

Right on.

The blanks were loaded into the magazine by the editor. The codeword is Rochambeau.

Raisa Tabula was the wife of the seventh president of the CCCP. See? Pee? Easy Peasy? Peace-y?

The blank page is about 192 millilitres full and empty. Empty of all meaning. A tale full of sound and ound and ound and furyuryrury. Empty of all meaning. Empty of all meaning. Empty it of all meaning. Meaning what? Meaning eaning. Ean the mean out of meaning.

Then they hired a poor dotty Irishman by the name of James Joyce. He wrote gibberish. You can see him going mad, page by page by page. It was gibberish. Not jibberish. Gibberish.

When a child is borne, its mother becomes tired easily. I can’t bear children. They let me down. I let them down. When they are around my shoulders, I let them down. When we have to put their inflatables in the car, I let them down. They are too much to bear.

When a child is born, its parents become stirred easily.

The blank page carries messages to the King. On a silver platter. He looks blank as the King takes the message. Showing emotion is punishable by death. Punishable by stealth. By wealth and health and happiness. Early to bed. Early to rise.

The king reads the message. He sees the message. He gets the message. He is weighed in the balance. And found wanting. What do you want, the page asks him.

Enough, says the king.

In that night, was Belshazzar, the king slain.

Slain!

And his kingdom square rooted.

When squares take root there is usually trouble. It happened in the sixties. Squares took root throughout London society. They didn’t like it when Beyond the Fringe imitated the Prime Minister. People said don’t be so square. Other people said, there aren’t degrees of squareness, you either are square or you’re not.

Well, how do you know I’m not?

You don’t look Jewish.

The Blanc pain was intense. The man who famously voiced Bugs Bunny in my Just a Minute voice, was on his death bed, and he was suffering from great pain as he approached his end from coronary heart disease.

The king suffered from coronary heart disease, but it didn’t kill him. The blank page did. The editor had loaded the magazine with blanks, but had secreted a single live round.

Do you live round here? You don’t look Jewish.

The coronary heart disease began at his coronation. It is believed to have been caused by it. So the editor said. Mel Blanc warned the king. Your coronation might give you a coronary.

Would it help if I had a carnation as well?

We’ve always been a red car nation.

I know. It’s one of the things I’m proudest of as king.

What are you as king?

It wasn’t a question.

If you have a carnation, you can make banoffee pie.

I’m not allowed to use my hands, someone else would have to do it for me. Besides those crowns are heavy.

I had half a crown once. That’s two and a half Schillers.

Was anyone shriller than Friedrich Shiller?
Was anyone ruder than Dieterich Buxtehude?

I’d die to rich.

Or too rich to die.

The lanky Paige is in good voice. Singing hits from Evita, inevitably. Or Evitably, perhaps. The king says it helps with his heart. He is the king of Hearts. The king of people’s hearts. He thinks. Or does he? He is wondering. Is he ass king?

‘Oh, I say,’ said the square, ‘they’re taking off the Prime Minister. That’s too much!’

Where are they taking him off to?

A square peg in a round hole. Around holes. Around wholes. Around whores.

A whore frost happens in severe winters. It’s followed by a John Thaw. And then a Sheila Hancock. Which would have been useful earlier.

This stuff is wasted here. This tuff is wasting me. The stuff is wasting me here. Wasting me here.

You can’t make fun of the Prime Minister. He’s like the king. But he’s ass king for it. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t grandstand. Neither does his grand-dad. But he’s an ass around holes. He’s a whore for squares. He went to a square school and he suffers for it.

Mel Blanc was paged. ‘Paging Mel Blanc, paging Mel Blanc’

‘I’m Mel Blanc. What’s up, doc?’

‘I have a message from Warner Brothers. They want you to be the voice of their new character.’

‘Say, that’s great news. What’s he called.’

‘He’s called Kegs Kenny.’

‘Kegs Kenny?’

‘Yeah, he’s a drunkard. He always has a keg of beer with him, and he is constantly outwitted by an annoying wabbit.’

‘You mean a rabbit.’

‘Sorry, I always do that.’

‘You said “drunkard” okay.’

‘But I can’t say wabbit.’

‘They told you all that in that single message?’

‘It’s in very small handwriting.’

‘I have to say that Kegs Kenny doesn’t sound like an appealing character.’

‘He’s hilarious. He falls over and throws up and then gets emotional and beats his wife.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘At tennis. For some reason alcohol hugely improves his game.’

‘That’s a relief. But look, you know a huge amount of the back story for a page boy.’

‘I actually work for Warner Brothers. I go all over the world to talk to people for them. But this is better than the last job they gave me.’

‘What was that?’

‘It was my job to run towards the camera really quickly with the face of their latest character or a shield. It was tiring.’

There aren’t enough days in the week for this.

There should be about thirteen days in the week. And three weekends.  The days of the week are going to be called Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday, Sunday, Bloomsday, Labourday, Dorisday, Lorisday, Marmosetday and BoatyMcBoatface.

‘That last one’s a bit odd.’

At least the page isn’t shooting blanks.

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