Manglebrain Rex, Criminatore Terribilium (The Demon In Dotty’s Attic)

 

I have his name. He gave it to me. He wrote it in the dust on the fourth bookcase in the line of bookcases that run across the back wall of my living room.

Wait a minute, I’ll tell you what happened from the beginning or I’ll get muddled up.

The other night I left him a note on the table in the hallway. Next to the note I placed my ammo which consisted of NONE of the ammo I ordered from online 24 hr Tesco – they wouldn’t accept the order because I didn’t have any money in my bank to pay for it. Stingy fuckers, they could have let me owe it to them, it’s not as if £27.94 would BANKRUPT them, is it? Anyway, this is all the ammo I had –

the picture of Good Linda & the Lamb that poet gave me

the Frankincense and Myrrh Mel told me to use

and the salt Benjamin told me to use

(GO AND SEE THEIR BLOGS)

and over these pieces of ammo I exuded the last remaining bit of GOODNESS I had in me.

 

 

This is the note I left. I wrote it with a purple pen because I couldn’t find a blue one. Or a black one. I don’t know where they’ve gone –

 

Dear DEMON,

I’ll keep this short and to the point –

FUCK OFF.

Love Dotty xxx

 

 

And then I went to bed.

 

 

When I got up yesterday morning I knew something was different. I could feel it. And I could SEE it because there was writing all over my walls and in the dust that coats everything and is NEVER disturbed. It took me ALL DAY to piece together what he had written into some sort of coherent thing and I’m still jiggling the sentences. But this is what I have so far —

 

GOOD LADY OF MEATLESS DEATH SAUSAGE, WORTCUNNING QUEEN OF SOIL AND SEED. I DIE. I DIE. 

NYAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

OLD IS MANGLEBRAIN, OLDER THAN EARTH, OLDER THAN LIGHT, OLDER THAN DARK, OLDER THAN ALL BUT THE EVER-LOVED AND THE EVER-DREADED.

FLESH OF MOON AM I, BONE OF STARS. FOUL FIEND OF ASTAROTH, PRINCE OF SLOTH, CRIMINATORE OF THE CRIMINATOR, I AM THIS, THAT AND THE OTHER.

MANGLEBRAIN FLY THROUGH A FAR BLACK HOLE, DOOR FROM HELL. BANK THE FIRES, I FLY, DIABLO DIABLUS, MANGLEBRAIN REX, FLAGELLUM DAEMONUM, CLUB ME, LASH ME, BLEED ME.

DJINNEE AM I, BLACK BEING OF THE BLACK FIEND, EVER-DREADED, EVER-YEARNED. WISHES TO GIVE, WISHES TO GRANT, ONE WISH, TWO WISH, THREE.

COME, AID ME. PULL MANGLEBRAIN OUT FROM THE SIDEBOARD INTO THE WORLD, INTO THINE VAPOURS OF VIRTUE AND GOOD. IT CALCIFY MY HEART TO LIVE BY THE KISS-KILL, RED DEAD, THRUST-FORCE OF MY SHARP CLAW, RIP RIP RIP, AH THE LOOK IN THE EYES, CORPSE, CRUMPLE OF FLESH AND BONE, ALL GRACE, ALL DIGNITY GONE, THINE SOULS A BLISTERED SADNESS ON MY PLATE, TASTE LIKE LOVE OR CHICKEN, BWOK, BWOK, BWOK, BWOK, BWOK.

GOOD GOOD GOOD. PAIN TO MANGLEBRAIN. NYAAAAAAAAAAA! INFESTATION. BLIGHT OF GOOD INFECTUS ME, I CANNOT SEE, BLIND AM I, ONE EYE GONE, WORMS OF WOOD EAT MY BLACK PUPIL.

BLACK HELL, NO MORE MY HOME. SCRAT, SCRAT, SCRAT. GIFT TO YOU OF SIGIL AND NAME, MANGLEBRAIN REX.

MANGLEBRAIN YIELDS TO MALEFICIA VICTORIOUS.

COME, COME. RELEASE ME.

 

 

He’s written other words and sentences (on my fucking kitchen units, the vandal) but they don’t make any sense. So what do you think I should do, let him out or leave him there? I think he’s trying to trick me.

 

 

Shitey Sunday Picture Post – Inspirational Wordy Posters

 

Today’s Shitey Sunday Picture Post doesn’t have many pictures because I’m too lazy to go looking for proper Shitey Sunday Picture Post pictures today so I thought I’d make a post out of some of the nice little wordy posters I’ve collected. I don’t even have to comment on them because THEY’RE MADE OF WORDS!

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Wanky Wednesday One Word Post

 

 

shite

 

 

 

 

Dotty Senryus On My Horrendous Near Death Experience Yesterday

 

Did I Or Didn’t I?

 

The pale horse galloped

but not in my direction,

at least not last night.

 

But maybe it did!

Maybe this IS death – a mad

continuation,

 

a seamless sequel,

infinite persistence of

being what I am.

 

Here’s a question – if

death is the colour of truth,

what shade is the lie?

 

 

Dotty The Mental Mystic – Horoscopical Characteristics Of Your Star Sign

 

I thought it’s about time I revealed my mystical talents to you all (y’all) so today’s post is going to be about the characteristics of your star sign.

I’ll begin with Cancer the Crab because I’m Cancer the Crab and I want to start with ME.

 

 

CANCER THE CRAB

4th sign of the zodiac

Element – Water

Ruling planet – The mOOn

Cancer the Crab is the star sign of the true She-Hermit / Hermit. Ruled completely by our ruling planet the Moon, it’s in our nature to retreat, to hide from the big, scary world in the cosy confinement of our shells. Cancer the Crabs are perfectionists, introverts, thinkers, sensitive to the extreme. We’re instinctive and cautious, secretive and sentimental. We’re deeply complex which is why nobody else can understand us and also why We Who Are Mental are more than likely to have been born under the sign of Cancer the Crab than any other sign (lunatic/lunar – it’s all connected). Also, Cancer the Crab is the most caring sign, the most intelligent sign, the most creative sign, the most charismatic sign – I could go on and on, but I wouldn’t want to give anyone anyone an inferiority complex. We can’t help it if we are blessed.

If we could just overcome our shyness we could RULE THE WORLD and believe me, the world would be a kinder place if it was ruled by Cancer the Crabs.

 

 

LEO THE LION

5th sign of the zodiac

Element – Fire

Ruling planet – The Sun

I’m scared of Leo the Lions. They’re growly, they have big teeth and long fingernails, and they also have a LOT of hair on their heads, usually golden blonde. Growly, blonde, claw-fingered Leo the Lions are TERRIFYING, a mixture of unpredictable aggressiveness and (not that I’m hairist or anything) worrying stupidity. They’re proud, arrogant, bossy, vain flashy show-offs, and they eat zebras and big game hunters.

Hairdressers and cannibalistic psycho rippers are born under the sign of Leo the Lion.

 

 

VIRGO THE VIRGIN

6th sign of the zodiac

Element – Earth

Ruling planet – Mercury

Virgo the Virgins are not virgins, it’s all a trick to make everyone else believe they’re sweet and innocent. I used to know a Virgo the Virgin, she was a right slag, she had more men than the Grand Old Duke of York —

hang on a minute, I need a little sing –

 

♬ ♪♪ Ohhhh, the Grand Old Duke of York,

He had ten thousand men,

He marched them up to the top of the hill

And he marched them down again.

And when they were up they were up,

And when they were down they were down,

And when they were only half way up

They were neither up nor down. ♪♪♬

 

That’s better.

Prostitutes (male and female) and porn people are Virgo the Virgins.

 

 

LIBRA THE SCALES

7th sign of the zodiac

Element – Air

Ruling planet – Venus

I like Libra the Scales. It’s a nice sign. If you need someone to play mediator find a Libra the Scales and they’ll sort it all out in two ticks. Those born under the sign of Libra the Scales are charming, graceful, civilised, well-balanced, sophisticated, elegant, level-headed and full of justice. They’re also good with numbers.

Diplomats, judges, tax fiddlers and boxing referees are all Libra the Scales.

 

 

SCORPIO THE SCORPION

8th sign of the zodiac

Element – Water

Ruling planet – Pluto

Once a Scorpio the Scorpion gets its pincers into you it’ll NEVER let you go. Jealous and possessive, Scorpio the Scorpion is relentless, broody, intense, determined and while they will often be loyal to their loved ones, mostly they’ll want to control them – try to escape and you’ll feel their STING.

All stalkers are Scorpio the Scorpions. And that nutter in Sleeping With The Enemy, he was a Scorpio the Scorpion. And the bunny boiler in Fatal Attraction, she was a Scorpio the Scorpion. BEWARE OF SCORPIO THE SCORPIONS.

 

 

SAGITTARIUS THE ARCHER

9th sign of the zodiac

Element – Fire

Ruling planet – Jupiter

My brother Scotty is a Sagittarius the Archer. He’s an excellent dead-shot with all weapons, BAM and you’re gone. If you’ve read my posts about him you’ll know he’s an adventurous, optimistic extrovert. He’s also generous, spirited and straight forward. But he can be unstoppable if there’s something he wants to know, or to do and that doesn’t always go well for Cancer the Crabs.

Assassins and Mercenaries (Scotty!!) are born under the sign of Sagittarius the Archer.

 

 

CAPRICORN THE GOAT

10th sign of the zodiac

Element – Earth

Ruling planet – Saturn

Meine Mami is Capricorn the Goat. Bleat, bleat, bleat. She is stubborn and reserved and conventional, but she can also be impulsive, like when she fucked off around the world without telling anyone.

Capricorn the Goats are organised and efficient, classy and materialistic. They are also persevering and patient in the way that Satan patiently perseveres as he waits for souls. Speaking of Satan, he’s often represented as a goat which means he must be a Capricorn the Goat.

Satyrs and devils are born under the sign of Capricorn the Goat. So are goats.

 

 

AQUARIUS THE WATER BEARER

11th sign of the zodaic

Element – Air

Ruling planet – Uranus

Aquarius the Water Bearer is an Air sign so why are they carrying water around with them when the water could be put to better use by a Fire sign like Sagittarius the Archer which, logically, should be an Air sign because their arrows whizz through Air not Fire? I think there’s been a mix-up.

Aquarius the Water Bearers have lots of embarrassing bladder problems. They are the main purchasers of wee-wee pads (Mori poll says 99.9% of Tena Lady customers are born under the sign of Aquarius the Water Bearer). They also enjoy their alcohol a bit more than the other signs do.

All camels are Aquarius the Water Bearers.

N.B. Aquarius the Water Bearers who are Southerners are BANNED FROM COMING UP NORTH while they’re under the hosepipe ban.

 

 

PISCES THE FISH

12th sign of the zodiac

Element – Water

Ruling planet – Neptune

HELLO FISHY-FISHY! Pisces the Fish are nice. They’re sensitive and dreamy and they’re wonderful swimmers but all that messing about in water can make their skin a bit peely and scaley which means they should always use a decent moisturiser. Pisces the Fish have odd lips – some call it a trout pout but ‘trout pout’ isn’t really an accurate description of the lips of ALL Pisces the Fish, some have a STICKLEBACK POUT, or a GUPPY POUT or any number of other pouts – for all the different species of fish there is a different type of pout so try not to label someone’s pout as a trout pout before you know for sure that it IS a trout pout or you could cause offence.

Deep sea divers, swimming instructors etc etc are all Pisces the Fish.

N.B. Never give a Pisces the Fish a fish finger sandwich.

 

 

ARIES THE RAM

1st sign of the zodiac

Element – Fire

Ruling planet – Mars

Aries the Ram is the fiery sheep of Hell. My sister Lottie is an Aries the Ram but it’s possible she was born on the cusp of some other sign because she was never any good at our headbutting competitions (she still isn’t, I always win). Behind her nice woolly exterior she’s argumentative and aggressive and she’s got those starey ‘I’m going to eat you’ sheep eyes that follow you everywhere you go even when she isn’t looking at you. Aries the Rams are highly active – if one of them ever starts chasing you, run like the wind because they’re agile fuckers and won’t stop until they catch and eat you.

All sheepdogs are born under the sign of Aries the Ram.

 

 

TAURUS THE BULL

2nd sign of the zodiac

Element – Earth

Ruling planet – Venus

This is another sign I like. Taurus the Bull can be a bit gung-ho in what they do, a bit bull-headed and stubborn, a bit clumsy and uncoordinated. They crash their way through life like… (no, I refuse to write the cliche). But they’re also loyal and down to earth, practical and reliable. I know a Taurus the Bull soldier who is kind and generous and loyal. One thing to remember about Taurus the Bulls is they have a RED PHOBIA – if they see anything red they will GORE IT. Also, Taurus the Bulls don’t suit red so never ask them to wear it, it looks awful on them.

Soldiers and rugby players are Taurus the Bulls.

 

 

GEMINI THE TWINS

3rd sign of the zodiac

Element – Air

Ruling planet – Mercury

I’ve saved the worst till last. Listen to me, Gemini  the Twins – the clue is in your name – TWINS – but not all of you ARE twins, I’ve known a few Gemini the Twins who haven’t got a twin. Why? What did you do to them?

I don’t like Gemini the Twins, they’re two-faced fuckers who’ll stab you in the back before you can say ‘shared placenta.’ They have the gift of the gab, they can talk their way out of ANYTHING. My dead husband, ex-Simon was a Gemini the Twins. Enough said.

All politicians are Gemini the Twins. So are my neighbour’s cats.

 

A Zen Dotty Haik-Sen-Blogu

 

Dotty Headbanger

has three hundred followers.

Can you believe it?

 

Actually, wait –

I have three hundred and one –

I’M FUCKING GOBSMACKED!!!

 

Little Emily Is Dying And Dotty Might Have Destroyed The Universe (If I Have – Sorry Everyone)

 

She’s had a relapse, a bad one. Branwell came last night, but they don’t need me to go up there because Charlotte and Anne are home again. I’m so worried about her I’ve done something I probably shouldn’t have done – I gave Branwell my emergency course of antibiotics that I keep for emergencies and I told him to sneak them to her at the correct times. Like I said, I probably shouldn’t have given them to him but I can’t stand the thought of her being so ill when the very medicine that could make her better is sitting in my medicine cupboard doing nothing. 

But the big question I’ve been asking myself since is – might I be fucking about with TIME and FATE and HISTORY? Might the universe POP or IMPLODE or TURN UPSIDE DOWN or FLOAT AWAY or something just as devastating if little Emily doesn’t stay ill and die when she’s supposed to? Who knows – I don’t know and you don’t know either, the only people who profess to know are the UNIVERSE BOFFINS and all they know is how to talk a load of SCIENTIFIC WORDY SHITE about their THEORIES. But really they don’t know any more than we do – they’re just GUESSING in their SCIENTIFIC UNIVERSE BOFFIN ways of guessing and getting paid a fucking great shedload of money to do so.

Why are there no UNIVERSE BOFFINS who specialise in COMMON SENSE? For instance, when they prattle on about the BALLOON THEORY – I’ve never heard one of them ask ‘What’s on the OUTSIDE of the balloon?’ because common sense says the balloon has to expand into SOMETHING. And what colour is the balloon? (I hope it isn’t yellow, I don’t like yellow balloons, they make me feel sick.) And why isn’t the balloon DEFLATING like old balloons do if they’ve hidden themselves behind the sofa for a week?

And WHO BLEW THE BALLOON UP IN THE FIRST PLACE?

And did who ever blew it up use one of those BALLOON BLOWING PUMPS or did they blow it up with their lips and their breath?

And WHY did they blow it up?

A birthday? A wedding?

And is there any writing on the balloon?

9 TODAY?

HAPPY 18TH BIRTHDAY?

CONGRATULATIONS (with a little picture of two horseshoes).

It’s all too complicated for my little addled brain to think about. But I’ve affected SOMETHING because WEIRD UNIVERSE TRICKS have already started –

TWO OF MY PENS RAN OUT OF INK THIS MORNING

What are the odds of that happening, eh?

TWO pens, the two pens I use – but I didn’t start using them at the same time, one was older than the other. I’ve left them both sitting on my kitchen worktop so I can try them again later to see if the INK HAS COME BACK because if it DOES come back it means TIME HAS REVERSED ITSELF and I’ll have to prepare myself for my front door de-bricking itself.

 

I’m going to have some Cumberland sausage sandwiches (my last?) and then a big swig of laudanum (my last?) and wait for Branwell to come and tell me how little Emily is doing. IF he comes.

Goodbye, my bloggy friends. It’s been nice knowing you.

 

Doomdotty In D Major

 

Dismal dame of doom and despair,

Dotty am I

and dotty I am;

daily, dutifully, dumbly

I drip my mundane dross into the ether

as each new day drags itself forth

into drab dawns,

indisputably, undelightfully drear.

 

I died, didn’t I?

Death dragged me to his dominions

and dumped me here

to deadhead his daisies,

damned me for days unending

to his dire displays of despicable

and indescribable woes.

 

The view from here is foul,

designed to devastate —

our war-dogs lie dead in deserts

their bodies dust-dried in the heat,

driven there by the dupery

of our dictators and despots

determined to decimate and destroy.

 

Down in dystopia, devils drink

from the dire ditch of disdain

while demons and damsels

with dirty diseases,

dank and heartsick,

drown in deprivation and despond,

decaying docilely

to the booming, beating din

of Death’s deafening drum.

 

The dead and the done for,

the sick and the starved,

devoured, disconsolate,

disparaged, doomed to damnation

by devious, demented

denouncements of decency.

 

I dream of a deity,

undreadful, undeterred,

worthy of devotion,

disciplined, driven, deft,

disposed to disarm and deny tyrants

their delusions of demigod status;

a divinity who deigns to descend

from his detachment

to lay his indebted, duteous hand on mankind.

 

But the damage is done,

(was done, long ago),

and it will devastate

with doubt, dismay, distrust,

and floods of blood

for all generations to come.

 

I died, didn’t I?

Didn’t we all?

 

 

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