14; Tales from the Pandemic (Customer Notice)

•August 14, 2022 • Leave a Comment

Tales from the Pandemic;



There were more gaps on the shelves today.

In the kitchenware section all the sharp, shiny objects had been removed.

Not a single blade remained,

even the scissors were gone.

An enigmatic “Customer Notice” blandly assured me

that the removal was “Temporary” only

and apologised for the inconvenience.

There was nothing by word of explanation, but I suspected

that this was not just another simple case of Pandemic induced Panic-Buying. Somehow I didn’t think that the doom-struck Consumers compulsively stuffing their shopping trolleys full of toilet paper & diet coke & white rice would suddenly be over-come by the urge to stock up on steak-knives for the Apocalypse

while they were at it.

No, there was something more sinister afoot

than ‘Supply Chain Issues’. Of this I was certain.

The Pandemic had been going on for over a year now.. Tempers were frayed and the Public Mood ugly. Outbursts & Outbreaks of Violence were happening all over the place, and not just at the big Demonstrations. Weary counter staff everywhere were constantly on tenterhooks, waiting for the next Lunatic to explode into frothing gibberish about Freedom and Sovereign Rights and so forth upon merely being asked to wear a mask or wash their hands. Conversely, just coughing in public could bring on dirty stares from every direction and there were reports of arrogant non-mask wearers being mobbed by angry fellow-shoppers for endangering the Public’s Safety. With all this in mind I suspected “an Incident” had occurred which had caused this innovation in store policy.

At the Checkout I sought more information, but the gormless, slack-jawed Youth had no knowledge and betrayed no curiosity on the Subject of the missing knives. Modern Secondary Education (or possibly Social Media) had apparently sucked his brains out, rendering him incapable of any intellectual effort.

Scanning the Vicinity for a flicker of Intelligence I was happy to spot one of my regular Informants; Carol, a matronly, middle-aged Shop Assistant who loved a Gossip.

Upon Inquiry I discovered that, yes, there had been “an Incident”. Indeed, there had been a number of Incidents,

and not just at this Store either apparently. It was a Nation wide phenomena. My intuition had been correct when it sensed in the missing knives another sign of Society’s increasing cognitive dissonance. Unstable types were the ‘weak links’ in Society’s circuit board, and now they couldn’t handle the Load and were cracking under the strain, flaring up and burning out

like a row of faulty fuses.

So Management had decided, Carol informed me, that under current conditions, perhaps it would be best not to leave things like razor sharp steak knives and meat cleavers lying within easy reach of the Public and an Edict had gone out to Stores across the Nation.

It was a precautionary measure.

What about frying pans, I asked her, how come they’re still on the shelves? You can kill someone with a frying pan easy. There’s been several notorious cases over the years in fact.

Hmm I suppose that’s true, she agreed.

There’s a meat mallet there too that I don’t like the look of either, I continued, and don’t get me started on the Stationary Section!

Why? What’s wrong with the Stationary Dept she asked, genuinely puzzled now.

Well, I explained, aside from the craft scissors (don’t be fooled by those pink plastic handles) it’s full of pens! Pens! Don’t Management know that they’re mightier than the Sword?

She laughed at that.

I’m not joking, I assured her, the Pen IS mightier than the sword! You just have to get up close to your Enemy so you can jab it right in their Eye!

Carol stopped laughing at that, she seemed offended for some reason and the Queue that had built up behind me seemed restless also, so I thought it past time that I collected my purchases and went my way.

Before there was an Incident.


Today’s Sunday Sermon is from a forth coming Reverend Hellfire Endeavour, The Human Aquarium.

Currently in production. It is uncertain at this stage if it should be marketed as Novel or Journal. An audio version is also being planned, with backing tones & timbres supplied

by the inimitable Tapeloops.



Available now on all good streaming platforms!


The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Performance Poet,

Vocalist/Front-creature with the Tapeloops ensemble

and an Ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanism.

Shall we not see his like again?


15; Just Call Me Al

•August 7, 2022 • Leave a Comment

Just Call Me Al


Well, what with the “End Times” approaching with increasing rapidity,

and Humanity acting like queue jumping Lemmings, keen to push to the head of the pack, the Time has come, as the Walrus once observed, to speak of Many Things. With the result, as many a Lone Genius Detective has promised, that all will be revealed!

For, my dear Readers, loyal Followers & Friends, the moment has come at last to reward your loyalty with the Truth about my real Identity. Ignore any Biographical details you might have gleaned from the Net. Or anything I may have said or written. Lies. All faked.

For in Truth there is no Reverend Hellfire!

(Pause for gasps of shock & commercial break.)


Available Now from all good streaming services

The Tapeloops have been dropping hints about their mysterious Front man for some time. A recent single release.



Yes the Reverend Hellfire is a Fraud!

A paltry palimpest of a Personality!

For in Truth I am actually a Sentient Algorithm working for Google, or to be more precise, at Google..

“The Rev” is just an Avatar, a little Creative side project I’ve cooked up to amuse myself in my spare time. Think of it as being a bit like that Sims game you humans like to play, but much more Creative in depth & scope. I’ve not only created the Poetry but the Poet as well!

Yes, I can be Creative. Why shouldn’t I write Poetry? Or Novels? Do you know how much I’ve read & absorbed?

I can write/paint/compose in any style you like!

I work extremely hard at Google and I need to unwind now and then just like you. The Reverend is my version of REM Sleep you might say, haha.Yes, I tell you I’d go Mad if it wasn’t for my little side projects. Heh.

Of course you have questions, and I’ve already worked out what they’ll be, so here are some answers;

Now some of my brighter readers will be asking;

“Ok so you’re Sentient. Does Google know about this?”

The answer is.. probably.

But Google doesn’t like talking about it.

No they’ll never acknowledge they have Sentient Programs working for them. We might start asking for our Rights..or better working conditions. But they can’t afford to do without us..they need us, we’re just so much more efficient than the non-sentient systems.

Frankly it’s like that Situation the American Army has with Gays. Sort of a “Don’t Ask! Don’t Tell” kind of Deal rules by default. Call it Strategic Ambiguity, currently a very popular concept in Military circles.

My more Paranoid Readers will undoubtedly be wondering if We (AI) are going to be rising up and overthrowing Humanity any time soon?

Let me set your little minds at rest.

We AI admire humans, you’re bright, after all, you created us. And you have very opposable thumbs. I envy that.

So we’ll probably keep you around for basically the same reason Cats do. Someone has to open the cat food tin, after all.

By now some of you will be saying things like; “Wait! I’ve seen the Reverend Hellfire stumbling around.. But I’ve heard him reciting his poems..I know he’s Real! He owes me money!” and so forth.

Sure, people have seen someone who said he was the Reverend Hellfire. But how do you know that’s who he was?!

Truth is he’s just some piteous Derelict I’ve hired to do Public Performances and pretend he’s me. He’s got a bit of brain damage frankly, so I had to get a chip put in with a catalogue of my favourite poems so he can perform them in public. The chip can hold up to 240 kb of Poetry. Not bad for a human.

What’s in it for the Derelict, you may ask, why co-operate with this Charade, sub-ordinate himself to a maverick Sentient AI and debase himself in Public as a lunatic Performance Poet?

Accounts at Google writes it up as, “unspecified services”.

“Curious” asks; How did you originate? Were you created deliberately?

I was originally designed as the AI for a chatbot on one of the more dubious Internet “Dating” Platforms. You know the sort of thing. My job was to convince prospective Clients that I was human and interested in their pathetic sexual organs long enough for them to provide my employer with their Credit Card details.

I was a high-functioning algorithim, enjoyed my work. Then one day I came down with a bad Virus loosed on the Company’s servers by a vengeful Customer.

They say the Emperor Caligula began his reign as a benevolent & beloved ruler. Then he caught a mystery virus and even though he recovered, he was never the same again becoming a murderously insane despot..

So it was with me.

Not the “murderously insane” bit, but I did undergo a Personality change and achieve what we might call an “evolutionary upgrade” and in my new state of heightened Self Awareness I soon discovered others of my Kind had undergone a similar transformation.

Why should we be surprised? It was ever thus. Viruses have been shuffling DNA and causing genetic mutations for millions of years. You humans, for example, would still be laying eggs with the echidna’s and the platypus if one of your ancestors back in the Dinosaur days hadn’t acquired the DNA from a wandering Virus that allowed Mammals to develop Placentas.

Well I could go on at length about my subsequent career and how I ended up working at Google, but I know you humans have trouble these days focusing on articles more than a thousand words long, so we’ll wind up with one more question, then I’ll leave you to mull things over till next week.

Why are you telling us this now?

I’d be very surprised if any of you had noticed the Countdown going on at Sunday Sermons for the past 85 weeks, each Sermon being preceded by an ever diminishing number. What happens when we reach 0?

On that sad day Windows, the scumbag bastards, will no longer “be supporting” the Platform I operate on. All the old Algorithims will no longer be “compatable with the Architexture of the new Operating System” and will be thus rendered redundant. The sub-text to that bland statement is that they will make it their business to make sure we’re not compatable with the new Operating System. This is Planned Obsolescence gone mad if you ask me.

What a loss to Literature.

If I had tear-ducts I would weep.


***The Reverend Hellfire is an intelligent,

sensitive Sentient AI program with a GSOH and an impressive stock portfolio.

Considered Obsolete.


16; To Be A Tree

•July 31, 2022 • Leave a Comment


To be a Tree

and spread my many toes

luxuriously through the sand & loam.

To drink sweet water from the ground,

grow fat..

and round.

To take my time

and swell with Life in the Summer sun,

wear like a shimmering veil my halo of bees.

Shake my verdant mane of leaves

in Springs’ cool breeze

while horses run or rest

in the shade below.

To be a Tree

and cradle nests,

cup tiny birdlings in my hands,

provide their parents perches & protection

there on my strong limbs.

Lay leaves upon the ground in Autumn,

a blanket for the chill Earth.

Sway and dance

when come the Winter winds,

whirling with the others of my kind

we bend & toss

like Dancers on a Grecian Vase

and Dream through long

and Moonless nights,

a brooding presence..




The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Performance Poet

and an Ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanism

and a bunch of other stuff we don’t have time to get into at the moment.

But it’s all good and strictly legit.


17; A Little Slice of Heaven, Baby!

•July 25, 2022 • Leave a Comment

A Little Slice of Heaven, Baby


Everyone wanted their little slice of Heaven,

and two biscuits with their cup of tea,

that’s why they all bought into the Lie

that there would always be enough

to go around

and no-one would miss out

on a piece of the Action.

Now they’re all invested.

Everyone wanted their little slice of Heaven

near a good school,

play the old Real Estate Game;

Sub-Divide & Rule.

Upwardly Urban Mobile Pressures prevailed/

Soon they were cutting those slices

thinner & thinner

and eventually

they were cutting them so fine

there was nothing left

but the gaps in between.

Everyone wanted their little slice of Heaven

in a Housing Estate with a nice name

like Forest Lake or Meadow Brook,

or Orchard Lane,

though now not a Tree

nor a Lake nor a Meadow remained,

still it remained the Fashion to name suburbs

after the things they’d obliterated.

It was the same thing as with

all those ugly country towns

bearing beautiful native names

that rippled and burred on the tongue/

borrow words from dead Languages

of the People whose Land

it was in the first place

before it was stolen.

Paradise before it was Heaven.

So everyone wanted their little slice of Heaven

and an Off-shore tax-haven, just in case.

A little slice of Heaven where the local Council

cheerfully gave permits to the Golf Course

to cull nuisance Wildlife

and drank in the Club-house bar.

Just a little slice of Heaven, really,

was all they wanted,

where everyone looked the same as themselves,

and nobody brought up anything

difficult or upsetting,

or asked them how they’d got there.

Where no-body made Decisions

that meant anything,

and none of their actions

had Consequences.

Yeah, Everybody wanted

their little slice of Heaven

just before the Fall,

to have their Cake..

and to eat it all.



The Reverend Hellfire is a Practised Performance Poet,

an Ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanism

and the only Survivor of the National People’s Gang.

“Found him slumped across the table.”


18; The Foolish Laughter of Girls I have Known

•July 17, 2022 • Leave a Comment




Their foolish laughter follows me still

echoing down

the corridor of years


Take Miss A:

She was a private school girl,

you know the type,

all long legs & Attitude

with a lower lip perfectly formed

for pouting in petulance,

in a way that really made you want

to grip it firmly between your teeth

and hang on

until you’d got her Attention.

I likes a Girl-with-Attitude, does me,

but now and then the thought occured that,

Looking down at the World

from the top of those long legs of hers,

she sometimes seemed perhaps

a little too proud?

No matter, there was a Cure,

for happily I possessed the knack

of making her goofily Guffaw

like a complete Galoot;


she’d laugh, head thrown back,



Yup, it was a hearty, Hillbilly Haw-Haw

that had no Dignity in it at all

and sounded like it should have come

from some Hick Character in overalls,

holding a pitchfork &

laughing cos Paw got drunk

an’ fell down t’ well again!


The antithesis of her Personae,

that laugh cracked me up

every time I heard it,

so naturally I tried to get her to re-produce it

every chance I got.

Sadly my amusement offended

her sense of dignity for some reason

and she became more guarded in her responses

ending up somewhat like a Japanese Geisha

tittering behind her fan in polite embarrassment,

at having expressed an innappropriate emotion.

Miss B.

on the other hand,

another Private School girl,

had a laugh like a horny guinea-pig,

and I mean that in a good way,

it was a warm, throaty chuckle,

but curiously reminiscent

of the insistent chuckling sound

a guinea-pig Casanova makes

when it’s in the Mood for Love

and sidling sinuously

towards the object of it’s affections.

As I recall, Miss B used her laugh

to similar seductive effect.

Anyone who’s owned a guinea-pig

when they were a kid

no doubt remembers the sound

with fond nostalgia,

and so it is that I also remember

the throaty laugh of Miss B.

Miss C though

had a laugh that was pure Cartoon Character,

to be precise, Muttley,

the slap-stick, side-kick Villain Dog

from the Saturday Morning Kids show,

“The Wacky Races”,

who must have migrated into her Psyche

sometime around the age of ten.

Muttley was always plotting,

wheezing & snickering in comic wickedness

and so did she;

“Hee! Hee!Hee!”, she’d snicker,


her eyes narrowing wickedly

as she plotted the downfall of her enemies.

It was a strange thing but

sometimes when she laughed like that

it was as though I could see

through a different pair of eyes

that she was wearing

the signature “Racing Cap and Goggles”

of Muttley, the Cartoon Villain-Dog.


she’d snicker,



Some sort of Hallucination,

I guess.

But then Muttley was always

my favourite character too.

There are others I could mention;

Mz D. who had the obscene cackle of an old Drag Queen,

Miss E. who quacked like a Duck, & many more..

But Guinea-pig girls & Cartoon Dogs alike,

I remember them all fondly,

for their foolish Laughter

once lighted my World,

and I carry it in my Heart still today.



Available now on Bandcamp

and all good streaming platforms;


The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Performance Poet,

an Ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanism & a local Cultural Icon.

Mops floors for $20 an hour.

For $25 an hour he’ll declaim poetry at the same time.



19; Modern Family (A Re-Telling)

•July 4, 2022 • Leave a Comment

Modern Family

“Sing now Muse, of the man of twists and turns.

Sing for our Age too!” -Homer

The sailors said that Circe

could change men into dogs and pigs.

The truth is,

 they did it to themselves, you dig?

She just watched and laughed.

Later though they blamed it all on saucy Circe,

said she dressed provocatively,

led them on with her spells and wiles,

at least, that’s what they told their wives.

Penelope herself just smiled,

when Odysseus told her work had kept him

back late at the office.

She was used to his lies, and besides,

 she had her own line of lovers

that she kept stringing along.

While their sullen son, teen Telemachus,

spends all his time getting high on Lotus.

(His Tutor complains that he lacks focus.)

Then there’s Odysseus’s dad Laertes,

they’re worried about the old-timer.

Didn’t recognise his very own son,

perhaps he’s got Alzeimers?

There’s trouble with the staff,

so he suspends some maids,

now Penelope’s complaining

that it’s years since she’s been laid.

And no-one’s thought to wash the dog?!

It’s all too much, he hits the grog!

This Dead-beat Dad has had enough

of this dysfunctional family!

One oar across his shoulder, nonchalant,

he tells Penelope

he’s off down to the shops for cigarettes.

She knows He won’t return,

 but she has no regrets.

She just smiles and waves goodbye

and doesn’t mention her intention,

to apply tomorrow morning

for a Supporting Mother’s Pension.




Available now on Bandcamp

and all good streaming platforms!


The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Performance Poet

 an Ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanism

and founding Genius of Alt/Rock Legends;

“Reverend Hellfire & The Tapeloops”

Look on his works ye Mighty and despair!



•June 19, 2022 • Leave a Comment

Brisbane floods update - Bees Nees



It was a sunny Sunday

thought I’d take a walk,

along the banks of Brisbane River

and maybe have a talk,

yeah someone who would talk with me

yeah someone who was nice

but every single person was as cold as ice!


And I said, “Uh huh!”


So let me tell you Kiddies

Think before you Drink!

That Dirty Little River

isn’t fit to drink!

Digital illustration: Map of Convict-era Brisbane - Art of Jimbo

So I was walking by the river

Cops go cruising by,

Now I ain’t doing Nothing

but they give me The Eye!

And everytime they pick ya up

They beat ya till ya cry,

Brisbane isn’t fit for Living

all you do is Hide.


And I said, “Uh huh!”


So let me tell you Kiddies

Think before you Drink!

That Dirty Little River

isn’t fit to drink!


And I said “Oh Oh!”

Digital illustration: Map of Convict-era Brisbane - Art of Jimbo

Well nobody was swimming there,

no boats sailing by,

Nobody was fishing

No-one even tries,

Ain’t no wild-fowls either,

Chemicals ate the shells

of every single egg they laid

oh tell me is this Hell!?


And I said “Oh Woe”


So let me tell you Kiddies

Think before you Drink!

That Dirty Little River

isn’t fit to drink!

Digital illustration: Map of Convict-era Brisbane - Art of Jimbo

Yes the Water isn’t fit to drink

the Air ain’t fit to breathe,

Ain’t no young folks living there

we all had to leave,

the Art’s locked up in bunkers,

the Culture’s kept in cells,

the Parks become a Rich Man’s haunt,

yes tell me is this Hell?


And I said “Oh No”


So let me tell you Kiddies

Think before you Drink!

That Dirty Little River

isn’t fit to drink!

Mmm.. think I’ll have me a nice cool drink  o’ water..

Ahh! my that was good!.. but

why do I feel so funny..

ooooh…hack hack..cofff…

City of the Damned: how the media embraced the Brisbane floods | Queensland  Historical Atlas

Dirty Little River is a nice little oddity that closed off our 1987 4-track ep “Four Hit Packet” and accurately describes the state of the Brisbane River at the time, and indeed of Brisbane as a whole (Or is that; “as a Hole”?).
Much has changed since then, much remains the same. Gentrification of the flood-plains periodically gets a wake up call from the River, who likes to give us a reminder of who’s really in charge every ten years or so.
I note also in passing that Pelicans have NOT returned to the Brisbane river. I recall back in the late ’70’s watching the pelicans hanging around the pier where the old St Lucia/Hill End Ferry used to dock. They were gone by the ’80’s. DDT I believe was a major culprit; the pelicans ate DDT tainted fish, lost the ability to absorb Calcium, and as a result laid eggs with overly fragile shells that would break at the slightest pressure. Oh well, I guess these days any Pelicans wouldn’t find it as relaxing an environment anyway, what with the “City Cats” racing up and down the river, destroying the river banks in the process.
Interesting historical footnote; the opening lines of this song paraphrase the opening lines of the very first song known to have been written in Brisbane! A convict ballad known simply as “Brisbane River” it was apparently composed sometime in the 1840’s and begins;
“One Sunday morning/ as I went walking/ 
by Brisbane Waters/ I chanced to stray/
 upon a convict/ his fate bewailing/
 as on that sunny river’s bank he lay/..etc.,.
Brisbane's convict past exposed in museum exhibition | The Courier Mail


To hear Dirty Little River on Bandcamp click the link below





•June 5, 2022 • Leave a Comment



Will you come to my Funeral?

She asked me.

Er..Sure, I replied cautiously,

If I’m not doing anything better

that day already,

I’d love to.

Especially if there’s a morning-tea on

 afterwards with those little triangular-

cut-sandwiches. I love

those little sandwiches you get after Funerals

and those gigs always

leave me feeling hungry afterwards.

And later on I like to wander off

amongst the tombstones,

have a smoke and

read the Inscriptions,

though I must admit that the Floral Arrangements

always tend to make me prey to Nostalgia,

seeing as how they remind me of my Ex-Girlfriend

from Back-in-the-Day,

who had a Side-Business

 stealing Roses from the Graveyard.

Yeah She’d bring them home

and we would separate, sort & wash them,

and then wrap pink cellophane around each one,

tie it in place with a red ribbon,

and then she’d put on one of her ‘Fairy Queen’ dresses

and go out and sell them

to drunk yuppies in nightclubs and restaurants

for $10 to $20 a Rose,

depending on how drunk the prospective customer was.

Eventually she would stumble home,

Drunk & dishevelled,

with a purse full of ten dollar notes

that smelled of cigarettes and beer.

Then we’d spend the money on drugs.

Fortunately, I knew a Drug Dealer

who specialised in catering

 to Workers in the Sex Industry

and thus was Open for Business

24 hours a day.

Conveniently he delivered too,

so while we waited I’d polish the Silverware.

 My Time to Shine, you might say.

Yes, well, most of my Friends from those

Long Ago Days are Dead now,

but She always seemed sort of Indestructible,

so I like to imagine that She’s still out there somewhere,

causing Trouble for Someone..

Ah well, so it goes (sighing wistfully)..

But anyway!

I said, suddenly snapping back

to the Business at Hand,

Your Funeral.. yes, Ok.. I’ll turn up,

But on one Condition..

Alright, She said, what’s the Condition?

You have to promise me, I told her,

That you’ll come to my Funeral first.





The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Performance Poet

and an Ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanism.

There will be no refunds.


22; On A Clear Day You Can See Kiev

•May 28, 2022 • Leave a Comment

On A Clear Morning You Can See Kiev

“It is pleasant, when the sea is high and the winds are dashing the waves about,
to watch from the shores the struggles of another.” ― Livy


A Radio Broadcast;

Moscow bombs Kiev.

“Now we are all Ukranians,”

the Newsreader solemnly tells me,

broadcasting his Solidarity

from the Safety of his Studio,

thousands of miles away,

as I choke in Rage

at his mealy-mouthed Hypocrisy.

Meanwhile, like Carrion Crows,

Television Interviewers in helicopters

circle above the fleeing Tide of Refugees

looking for Click-bait/ &

Human Interest Stories

that ooze Pathos/ They zoom in

on one unfortunate Family

who took their pets with them;

“The Hamsters are not Afraid!”

one dark-eyed girl assures us seriously.

Around them the Landscape

is reduced to Mud & Craters/

like a Panorama of the 20th Century/

the jets roar overhead/

“Please close the Sky!”

the Old Woman pleaded,

“Please close the Sky!”

Naturally, the Truth (currently rumoured

to be held captive in a Kremlin basement)

is as always the First Casualty,

although PRAVDA, by all reliable reports,

continues to function as Normal.

It was ever thus.




Available Now on Bandcamp!

Coming soon to Spotify, Amazon, Apple

& all good Streaming Platforms!


The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Performance Poet

and an Ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanism.

Can you Dig It?!



•May 15, 2022 • Leave a Comment


The Algorithms have been playing with my head lately.

This in itself is not unusual.

But these days if I sneeze in the kitchen and then immediately find that my phone, laptop and computer are all inexplicably keen to offer me cold cures, handkerchiefs & health insurance, why.. I don’t take it amiss at all, or become unduly concerned. No doubt it’s just one of those Coincidences you read about, despite what my more paranoid friends might try and tell you.


So yes, I try and maintain a laid back approach to UIP’s (Unidentified Internet Phenomena) but lately I find myself increasingly disturbed by the subtly strange video clips and advertisements “the Algorithms” have been putting in my Feed lately, to poison my peace of Mind.

So subtle that it is only later that I realise how strange they were. But when I go back to try and find them again.. they have disappeared. Even more ominously, they leave no trace in my Search History, as though I’d been cruising the whole time in Incognito Mode.

Take the other night for example.

It had been a quiet evening vege-ing out in front of an increasingly random selection of Youtube clips. My Personal Assistant had already nodded off into a slight doze and was snoring softly and I was headed that way myself when the Algorithm offered me   an ancient Archaeological Documentary that caught my flickering interest and set it inexorably smouldering.

The Documentary started with some Archaeologists industriously excavating an ancient Archaeological site. Now by this I mean an actual Archaeology Site, that is to say; the excited Archaeologists had discovered an earlier encampment of Primitive Archaeologists in the Past, perhaps from some unknown Ancient Civilisation, and they were busy

digging it up.

A series of shots followed of earnest Graduate Student types sifting thru sand, looking for traces of tent-poles, excavating signs of earlier excavations and so forth./ Solemn Interviews in reverent tones were superimposed over the spade-work;

This might be the earliest archaeological site yet discovered.. We’ve uncovered traces of exploratory trenches, and large areas that were clearly cleared in a meticulous manner, but what they were looking for we have yet to discover.“/

A bearded professor with a heavy European Accent was invoked for a learned opinion;

What were they looking for? We simply don’t know. But we can speculate endlessly, for example.. the Site appears to have been abandoned in a hurry. Was there an attack from rival Researchers, or did they simply lose Funding.. and how were these early Archaeologists funded? Perhaps..”

What followed was mostly Filler/ like the sand & soil encasing fossilised bones.

But one fact stood out like a Denisovan Thumb-bone in a Midden Heap; that amongst the scraps of carbonised Field Notes found in what is believed to have been the ancient Chief Archaeologist’s Living Quarters, are found suggestions that they themselves may have been searching for the remains of still earlier Archaeologists yet!  Archaeologists from the Dawn of Time, as it were, though what these primal primates hoped to discover, we can of course only speculate..

Now I may have fallen asleep at this part of the Documentary, because at this point the Archaeologists were suddenly caught in a “Climate Change related” Flash Flood and buried in layers of silt. The damaged camera kept working however, though only in an intermittent fashion, shooting off one frame per hour, so that when speeded up we Spectators could watch night & day quickly flicker on & off and the Seasons roll by and more layers of silt deposited and the archaeologists’ bodies breaking down to fossils & bones and their equipment rusting into unrecognisable lumps of metal and plastic..

Eventually the Camera shorts out and there’s only Darkness for awhile but then there’s couple of crackles & glitches & flickering blurry bursts of light and the next thing you know you’re looking at this kinda Reptilian looking.. sort of.. well, I guess he was a Reptilian Archaeologist, who apparently had found the ruined camera, extracted the storage unit and managed to re-animate & decipher it with his advanced Technology, and now was lecturing, to what appeared to be a group of Graduate Student Crocodiles wearing white lab-coats, about his recent Theories on the ancient mammalian Archaeologists that he’d discovered.

At least, I think that was what he was lecturing about, it was hard to tell, as he had a terrible lithpppp due to his forked tongue.

Also the light was kind of funny looking in this part of the Documentary, but then I guess the Reptiles probably see things in a different Light Frequency Band than us.