Part
3
Sylvester
Rambling twitched as he heard the door bang shut in
the flat next door. 'If this lot are noisy, I'm moving
to Pilton,' he thought.His
mind often roamed to the exotic in times of crisis.
Sylvester
Maboab Rambling was born (some say) away in a manky
bedsit on the outskirts of Thrumster in 1950, only
5 years after the end of 1945. The first child of
a man and a woman (both of whom died mysteriously
in Bathgate),by the age of 20 he was already older
than his younger brother, Plywood Fleshcreep Rambling,
and showing signs of his legendary poetic prowess.
This
manifested itself in the epic Snottered in Lumphinnans,
edited extracts of which were serialised in the People's
Friend. Controversy surrounded this early masterpiece
as irate old dears and church elders expressed their
outrage at Rambling's gritty exposition of a wild
inebriated evening in the Fife mining village. The
whereabouts of the complete unexpurgated version of
this work had been the subject of much speculation
and apathy. Rumours suggested, however, it was forever
on the verge of being unearthed.
After
completing 6 months of a four year Masters Degree
course in Abstract Expressionist Welding at Aberfeldy
Junior Polytechnic, he decided to branch out into
the area of interior pet cage design. Due to a near
fatal accident involving a hamster, an exercise wheel
and a portion of lettuce, Sylvester's right index
finger was severely bitten off and he was no longer
able to write.
Poetry's
loss proved to be the internet's gain as Sylvester
cottoned on to the infinite opportunities and potential
audience for his determinedely doggerelistic ditties
dictated to his doting wife and webmaster, Thelomena
Hardship. Thelomena's obsession with collecting Pokemon
cards (known in Scotland as Pokechips) had turned
her on to the wonders of the web. It is she Scotland
had to thank for bringing Sylvester's masterpieces
to the attention of a dotty fan base splattered all
over the globe.
After
the untimely death of his wife due to an overdose
of hair lacquer and milk, Sylvester underwent reconstructive
surgery to replace his right index finger with a prosthetic
substitute in order to finally work on a long cherished
project bringing all the towns of Scotland to the
attention of the world by composing odes to as many
of them as he could in the remainder of his life.
He
was in the process of meditating over the rhyming
possibilities of border towns when he heard the singing
from next door. Clasping his hands over his ears,
he recited to himself:
It
is said that once in Berwick
You can feel the Scottish pain.
I tend to think that once in Berwick
You'd be best to catch the train.
He
could now hear coughing, which he could only just
stomach, but the screaming was the final straw. Sylvester
stormed out the flat to hammer on Seraphema's door.
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