“Sod the wine, I want to suck on the writing. This man White is an instinctive writer, bloody rare to find one who actually pulls it off, as in still gets a meaning across with concision. Sharp arbitrage of speed and risk, closest thing I can think of to Cicero’s ‘motus continuum animi.’

Probably takes a drink or two to connect like that: he literally paints his senses on the page.”

DBC Pierre (Vernon God Little, Ludmila’s Broken English, Lights Out In Wonderland ... Winner: Booker prize; Whitbread prize; Bollinger Wodehouse Everyman prize; James Joyce Award from the Literary & Historical Society of University College Dublin)





10 July 2017


All the creative crew and the more creative security heavies at the DRINKSTER depot have been deeply concerned about George Grainger Aldridge going loose in the Territory. Seems, however, that on this expedition he has so far confined himself to the Port of Darwin. Here are a few of the most recent phoneys:

This one is a horse, of course, dangerously close to falling off the edge of a pub ... no questions arksed ... and here is the front page of yesterday's 'paper:

... which is a big change from croc yarns although crocs love to wait whole epochs for you, in the dark by the old long drop shithouse ... note that exhaust pipe with the pong shredder

... and this is the beautiful exhaust pipe array he spotted on a Darwin tug moored at Stokes Wharf ... he promises to send me a recording of these mighty pipes being tuned ... this is best exhaust system this particular peculier petrol head had yet viewed ... like check the sleeved venturi action business on them saxaphones, Grongo! This guy's the Darwinian Hector Berlioz ...leaving George first in line to collect a whopping Percy Grainger flogging from that side of his dark mob when he gets home ... misbehaviour in the Tropics!

1 comment:

turney-G said...

Darwinian Tug. I'm gonna register that Whitey.