The Fall of Bohemia

H. P. Tinker

“ Who knows the end?
What has risen may sink,
and what had sunk may rise.”
(H.P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulthu”)

There were 36 women in my life at the time.

Mrs. Miniver, the 36th and most incendiary by far, lived on the top floor of the Jeremy Kyle Building where much of the melancholy of modern times was prevalent. One summer afternoon I found her here, as I always found her here, reclining before a portable television like an Arabian suburb under an advanced state of US military attack. “I am the filthiest whore in all Bohemia,” she bellowed, “but only in the sense that I rarely wash and aggressively prostitute myself with middle-aged men keen to break into the media…”

Naked as a jackdaw, she ordered the immediate removal of my belt and trousers. “There is something I must show you,” she said, and reared a puckering arsehole upwards, more or less defiantly, toward my face. Oh pity me, dear reader! For I feel that although within the context of a pornographic magazine she may have been considered beautiful, it affords me no great pleasure to report that something bleak and uncontrollable propelled me down into those vastly disingenuous regions… yes, there were instances of fumbling. Some tentative probing. A little mild penetration. Finally, copulation occurred. I took refuge inside Mrs Miniver, travelling though densely knotted thickets of bush, parting perky portals, entering moist fleshy expanses and dank feminine areas. Down there, I discovered a small festival of disorientated men, wandering aimlessly, many of them seemingly just as confused about things as I was. After several minutes, I withdrew from Mrs Miniver and pulled up my pants.

“ Was that sex?” I asked.

“ A kind of,” she corroborated and stubbed her cigar out in the shattered remains of my soft-boiled egg. In the coming days and months I faced female madness… many erotic dangers…. whole years passing me in a seamless form of relentless pain, relieved only by listening to

There has been an excess of reality
In the System
The System has grown cumbersome
And collapsed
Beneath all the excess of reality
In the System
So far, Bohemia has proved relatively fruitless
For everybody involved
So far, Bohemia has proved relatively fruitless
For everybody involved
“So Far Bohemia Has Proved Relatively Fruitless”
(From The Very Best of Blind Willie McLemon, Disc 2)

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