Dear Reader, you must have been wondering what on earth Beohamster has to offer missions, miracles and amazing lives. You have, naturally, wondered who Beohamster is and you have hit the 'Beohamster' contributor profile to find out more. And what have you found? Yes, I'm sad to report, nay, horrified and putrified to discover, that Beohamster is nothing other than a reference to 'Bol' and 'Some religious aspects of the millenium' featuring the words 'I seen it', followed by a list of other drivelleries. 'Bol' is similarly empty of any meaningful content.
I would like to apologise on behalf of all hamsters and beos for this degrading state of affairs and to assure you that Beohamster is sitting beside me, head hung in remorselessness accusing me of giving this crap net space associated with MM.
In fact 'tis true. It twas I who authorised the inclusion of Beohamster as an official contributor to Amazing Lives - a contributor who has done nothing at all except sully this blog with a so far irremovable blight of association.
Please accept my apologies and, until technical assistance removes beohamster from the internet, avoid scrutiny of said rubbish. The author of Beohamster is currently in exile making me a cup of tea to say sorry. The hat of most memorable penitence shall be on his head in due course in a public manner around town.
Other technical hitches created by me remain unresolved. However, our good friend and critic Formart H Sax has indicated that the 18th International Committee will be coming to our rescue within the week. Watch this space....
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My apologies for being away from your blog for so long, but the international economic crisis appears to have resulted new invitations from various parts of the world, and I, and my beard carriers, have done much travelling since my last contribution. Travelling itself is becoming more time consuming as I am increasingly travelling by passenger liner rather than jet aeroplane for reasons that I will mention later.
ReplyDeleteBefore I go on, the new I.T. Committee of the 18th International have asked me to say that although they remain poised to rescue you from your technical difficulties, they have been unable to do so after hearing that your beohamster has run off with information essential to their rescue mission. They tell me that they have been waiting so long that they wonder whether one it will require one of your miracles to effect a recapture!
On a further preliminary note, I must congratulate you on the launch of your website which looks very professional. I once raised concern about some excess frivolity in this blog, but it is a sign of your influence on me that I now find myself a little disappointed not to find a section on amusing and decorative hats on the website, although I do understand your reasons for being so sensible on that occasion. I do worry about building up any cult of personality, but I would like to see a better picture of your editor heading your blog, perhaps one of you wearing one of your most amusing hats with some symbol of your mission. Or is old Formart, himself, getting carried away with frivolity. We used to favour the lighted torch as a symbol, but I expect you would prefer something more modern.
I must now apologise if any of your readers bear a resemblance to Father Christmas and have been suspected of being me, especially if this has attracted the attention of the authorities in your country. It is so long now since I referred to a fear that I might be confused with Father Christmas if I wore one of you red hats, and I could so easily have avoided any confusion.
There was indeed a time when my moderately long white beard did lead to my being confused with Father Christmas. I lived London in the later years of my life and I remember becoming upset when the street children chased after me calling “gi’us a present Father Christmas”. My distress arose, in part, from that manifestation of poverty in 19th Century London. However it was also due to a strong fear that my work would not be taken seriously if the masses believed that, once a year, I put on a big red coat and flew through sky pulled by reindeers. In fact there was a time when I believed that it was all a plot by the bourgeoisie to undermine me. Now, in my afterlife I have become less concerned with what people might think of me and free to believe a little in Father Christmas myself, and hope that one day, he might give gifts to all the children of the world, and that the gifts might include a copy of my manifesto!
I have digressed from my apology. The fact is that any fear I might now have of being confused with Father Christmas is not rational. As you know my beard has continued to grow to the point where I have to employ beard carriers. However my figure is no longer the large and portly one associated with Father Christmas. In fact, so many years since my death, the rest of me is so diminutive there really does not appear to be much of me at all except my beard. Consequently, wearing red hats is really not a problem. I hope all your readers will forgive me – especially those bearing any resemblance to Father Christmas.
Whilst on my travels, I have been giving further thought to problems of supply and demand that may arise with hats of the most amusing and decorative kind, as your movement grows. I have begun drafting an addendum to one of my most well known works. I have also been discussing setting up a millinery department of the 18th international. The idea is that your readers should be able to have their own designs, however silly, made up without your readers having to boost the profits of private hat makers. The discussions going well, but we are finding it very difficult to find a sufficiently eccentric hat maker to teach our members the necessary skills. There have also been some concerns about the health and safety implications of interaction between beard and sowing machine, although an alternative perspective was that what could be more amusing than a hat from which a sown in member of the 18th International was trying to escape.
I still have not explained why I am becoming reluctant to travel by aeroplane, and you will now to wait until my next posting, when I will say more about my ever growing beard and my expanding team of beard carriers. The candles are burning low here again.
Formart H. Sax.
13 April 2009