Although I strongly disagree with bands re-releasing previously released material in a vain attempt to become commercially more successful, I have had to re-assess my opinions. Due to constant requests for this piece of literature to be added to the journal “Tales from the Revolution”, I have succumbed and re-issued it. However, commercially speaking, your hero is extremely unsuccessful with this blog, and no matter how many re-releases, I do not think I could be classed as “selling out”. This was written during my Swedish period, imagine Bjorn Borg, herring and sun reflecting off the water.
So, anyway, here it is. Sit back, think of simpler days without children, and enjoy.
Ladies and Gentlemen,
We have had some more very sad news from the killing fields of Heaton Chapel.
Shortly after the loss and subsequent mourning of our cat Nobby, the shadow of death has once more darkened the doorstep of our humble abode. This time Clyde, the better half of the once notorious duo Bonnie and Clyde (Clyde having deceased 4 years ago), has sadly fallen to the greater spirits.
He began his life in Stockport's Pet Smart, which has now changed it's name, another sign of the long life of this inspirational fish. I remember bringing him home in a polythene carriage, as big as my thumbnail was the only space that he took up in the world. I had purchased a small, simple dwelling for him and his much lighter sister, it had a light house which even from an early age became the consistent sanctuary of home.
Whilst living in the fair village of Didsbury, Manchester he had many admirers commenting on what big eyes he had, and such a lovely fan tail. But disaster struck his world when, only about a year old, he contracted the fatal disease of white spot. For this he had to be taken to the infirmary and spent a good long while in solitary confinement with only his thoughts, and some medication bought from the pet shop, keeping him of this earth.
This episode is probably the biggest reason why Clyde always demonstrated such courage throughout his life, very similar to a child that has been rescued from a fire and then in later years joins the fire service as a means of repaying their debt. Another drama occurred in Clyde's fourth year, when unknown to him he moved from the cold water utopia of Didsbury into the uncharted manor of Heaton Chapel. This took place in a white van with Sir Andrew Wood esq. holding him delicately on his lap, like a bomb disposal expert would hold a sinister bag. However, due to his hardy nature, Clyde breezed through this adventure and once again grew strength from his tribulations.
One more anecdote that displays the super standing of this fish, that by any other words would be a legend, happened in the autumn of his life. Middlesbrough were playing the fine team of Southampton in a crucial game to remain in the Premiership and, as is the custom for these events, there were some guests enjoying the hospitality of the Holley's. The lady of the house was cleaning Clyde's house and at an untimely juncture she was transporting the said fish to a temporary rest lodge and Southampton scored. The guests, in jovial spirit, roared simultaneously and this had come as a surprise to the Lady delicately holding the prize fish. She dropped him, and in a couple of seconds, that seemed to be an eternity, Clyde hit the ground with an impact that could be compared to a sledge hammer gently tapping the knee cap of a poor orphan with rickets. After a worrying few hours waiting to see if he would start swimming, Clyde did not disappoint and glided a couple of laps with a somersault at the end.
Clyde, affectionately known as Clydey, had out lived all of the playmates that had been paired with him through the years, a trait that could be likened to Hugh Heffner. One that would leave him with a content look on his gills in his wizened years. Even in the injury time of his life an accolade was bestowed upon him that has happened to no other fish in recent memory. The leading artists Simon Raine and Deb Jones honoured his life with, not one, but two portraits of this Neptune of the tank. These portraits are now on display in the Gallery of Modern Dining.
Clyde meant a lot to a lot of people, and was at the very forefront of fish becoming men.
Float in Peace.
Clyde 1999-2006
We have had some more very sad news from the killing fields of Heaton Chapel.
Shortly after the loss and subsequent mourning of our cat Nobby, the shadow of death has once more darkened the doorstep of our humble abode. This time Clyde, the better half of the once notorious duo Bonnie and Clyde (Clyde having deceased 4 years ago), has sadly fallen to the greater spirits.
He began his life in Stockport's Pet Smart, which has now changed it's name, another sign of the long life of this inspirational fish. I remember bringing him home in a polythene carriage, as big as my thumbnail was the only space that he took up in the world. I had purchased a small, simple dwelling for him and his much lighter sister, it had a light house which even from an early age became the consistent sanctuary of home.
Whilst living in the fair village of Didsbury, Manchester he had many admirers commenting on what big eyes he had, and such a lovely fan tail. But disaster struck his world when, only about a year old, he contracted the fatal disease of white spot. For this he had to be taken to the infirmary and spent a good long while in solitary confinement with only his thoughts, and some medication bought from the pet shop, keeping him of this earth.
This episode is probably the biggest reason why Clyde always demonstrated such courage throughout his life, very similar to a child that has been rescued from a fire and then in later years joins the fire service as a means of repaying their debt. Another drama occurred in Clyde's fourth year, when unknown to him he moved from the cold water utopia of Didsbury into the uncharted manor of Heaton Chapel. This took place in a white van with Sir Andrew Wood esq. holding him delicately on his lap, like a bomb disposal expert would hold a sinister bag. However, due to his hardy nature, Clyde breezed through this adventure and once again grew strength from his tribulations.
One more anecdote that displays the super standing of this fish, that by any other words would be a legend, happened in the autumn of his life. Middlesbrough were playing the fine team of Southampton in a crucial game to remain in the Premiership and, as is the custom for these events, there were some guests enjoying the hospitality of the Holley's. The lady of the house was cleaning Clyde's house and at an untimely juncture she was transporting the said fish to a temporary rest lodge and Southampton scored. The guests, in jovial spirit, roared simultaneously and this had come as a surprise to the Lady delicately holding the prize fish. She dropped him, and in a couple of seconds, that seemed to be an eternity, Clyde hit the ground with an impact that could be compared to a sledge hammer gently tapping the knee cap of a poor orphan with rickets. After a worrying few hours waiting to see if he would start swimming, Clyde did not disappoint and glided a couple of laps with a somersault at the end.
Clyde, affectionately known as Clydey, had out lived all of the playmates that had been paired with him through the years, a trait that could be likened to Hugh Heffner. One that would leave him with a content look on his gills in his wizened years. Even in the injury time of his life an accolade was bestowed upon him that has happened to no other fish in recent memory. The leading artists Simon Raine and Deb Jones honoured his life with, not one, but two portraits of this Neptune of the tank. These portraits are now on display in the Gallery of Modern Dining.
Clyde meant a lot to a lot of people, and was at the very forefront of fish becoming men.
Float in Peace.
Clyde 1999-2006
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