There was about that époque a sense of acceleration, of time itself quickening, of the mezzanine/penthouse pogrom hitting its stride. The members, or martyrs, or munters, such being the manner in which I increasingly found myself driven to refer to them, slid sideways and wordlessly along the corridors. Long-established intimacies iced over, friendships were sundered, new enmities were spawned and waxed gibbous. Such small talk as there was became strained, gravid with unsought entendu, and tended to abort quite punctiliously if ever rumour was bruited of the White Willy’s presence in the purlieus or environs of that discourse. —
White Willy
I do not speak lightly in averring that the rancour and contumely and spite, between the respective guardians of the cultures and memes and lares and penates of Pex ‘n’ Quads and of Quads & Pex down like fuckin’ Easton, rivalled the notorious cricket-based animosity subsisting to this day between the Old Disgrace & Bristol Sikhs, with their sacerdotal gimp vapourising in the Old Disgrace shed, and the Easton Brokeback Cowboys, who maintain since time immemorial a profane and dirty gnome, who is expected to loll in a deckchair with a thermos full of instant, and to be accompanied by a surly old large brown dog of ancient vintage and indeterminate provenance, withal showing every indication of having been militantly unionised in the 1970’s. —
Quads & Pex, Easton, Pex ‘n’ Quads
A major bone of contention, between Pex ‘n’ Quads and Quads & Pex down like fuckin’ Easton, was the approach taken towards management science by the respective gymnasia, despite it being immediately obvious to the neutral observer that each was as bad as the other. As we have seen, Pex ‘n’ Quads had a fairly complex management structure – individual managers had vague ill-defined parameters of oversight, and there was a marked tendency towards unnecessary duplication thereof in some areas, combined with insufficient oversight bordering on negligence in other areas. There was moreover an egregious over-reliance on torture, and John Virgil Haruspex was at times over-enthusiastic in applying the showing of the contents of his bucket to persons in order to resolve certain of the less tractable cases of non-compliance which came to his attention. In addition – and this is a subject about which I must confess I have not as yet been entirely forthcoming – Pex ‘n’ Quads had an ownership structure which was simply bewildering. We already have an intimation of the fairly significant shareholdings owned directly by the Cerberidae, Peggy’s endowment having been alluded to earlier [ch2] by John Virgil now Haruspex. Other shareholdings of varying significance were held in tangled webs of trust companies controlled by nominees for pension funds with undisclosed beneficiaries, and undisclosed nominees for trust funds controlled by beneficiary pension companies, and undisclosed pension trust beneficiary funds controlled by nominee company funds, etc. Some of these were traced back to companies controlled by Colloid. On certain others, Strapon served as the nominee, and in one or two cases, the beneficiary. Indeed, I found to no little amusement that one or two shareholdings implicated myself, thanks to the blind pension trust associated with my sinecure at Cerebellum Towers. Quads & Pex down like fuckin’ Easton had a similarly ludicrous management structure – individual managers had vague ill-defined parameters of oversight, and there was a marked tendency towards unnecessary duplication of management oversight in some areas, combined with insufficient oversight bordering on negligence in other areas. There was a marked over-reliance on torture, and Emanuel Künt the Haruspex of Quads & Pex down like fuckin’ Easton was at times over-enthusiastic in applying creepy hippy massage to persons in order to resolve certain of the less tractable cases of non-compliance which occasionally impeded the proper functioning of that institution. In addition, Quads & Pex down like fuckin’ Easton had an ownership structure which was similarly bewildering. Shareholdings of varying significance were held in tangled webs of trust companies controlled by nominees for pension funds with undisclosed beneficiaries, and undisclosed nominees for trust funds controlled by beneficiary pension companies, and undisclosed pension trust beneficiary funds controlled by nominee companies, etc. Funnily enough, some of these were traced back to companies controlled by Strapon. On certain others, Colloid served as the nominee, and in one or two cases, the beneficiary. Indeed, I found to if anything even more amusement than had been the case with Pex ‘n’ Quads, that one or two shareholdings in Quads & Pex down like fuckin’ Easton implicated myself, thanks to the blind pension trust associated with my sinecure at Cerebellum Towers, numerically distinct from but, from some if not all perspectives, qualitatively identical with the blind pension trust associated with my sinecure at Cerebellum Towers, which had however invested in my name in Pex ‘n’ Quads, rather than in Quads & Pex down like fuckin’ Easton as was the case with the other one. —
Emanuel Künt
Herod more than anyone – that is to say, more even than John Virgil Haruspex and Wilhelmina Vestalis Maxima, daughter of Alba Longa – hated everything that Quads & Pex down like fuckin’ Easton stood for, taking their very existence as a personal affront. Roundtable discussions were regularly conducted over beer & sarnies in the Easton Buttplough. However, on this occasion that venue had been double-booked with the annual Easton Brokeback Cowboy Enema Festival, the klister syringes for which had already arrived and been bolted to the Buttplough barstools, so the natural thing was to give way to the Cowboys on this point, and hold the latest round of talks at Pex ‘n’ Quads in the Hotwells Road instead. —
Herod
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