The Archive

Poetic Justice - the experiment continues

The headlines in The Guardian today feature a splendid story that looks like it was conceived by Enid Blyton after a bad night. Five Arrested Over Theft of Pensioner's Body

George: "What’s that Timmy? A little old lady? And she’s dead."
Dick: "Goodness me George, what ever are we to do?"
George: "I know Dick, let’s nick the body. Then we can blackmail the family and get money for Anne’s smack habit."
Anne: "Cold… So cold."
Timmy: "Grrr." (gnaws on dead pensioner’s ankle).

Channel 5 would show it.

But enough digression, what you all want to know is what’s happening with the great What Women Want experiment isn’t it?

Well, the results are in for our wealthy broker…

No of views – 154
No of winks – 19
No emails (serious) – 1
Other – 1 email thanking for the comedy

So a good performance by cold, hard cash there I think. And I feel I have to add that I showed him to a few women who thought he actually seemed quite nice, so I guess he wasn't as obnoxious as I intended. Nevertheless, onwards.

Now before we introduce our next contestant, it has occurred to me that the first chap is likely to have a serious advantage in that lots of people who saw him in the first week aren’t likely to go back and see if he’s changed.

Fortunately, the site can help us compensate for this by giving us a number of times the profile was viewed, thereby providing us with a ‘responses per view’ figure which seems fair to me.

So, who’s in the frame this week?

Week 2 - the romantic poet.
That’s right. Get your puffy sleeved shirt on and sharpen your quills for next week’s profile. Our starving poet living in a garret is in search of his muse. Here’s the basics of the profile… (again, this is just the free text, some of which is in response to questions so may seem a bit random here)

Poet seeks muse to inspire and adore

I am a poet adrift in a world of flashing lights and buzzing baubles.

I long for a meaning deeper than the Big Brother Jacuzzi and a connection more profound than can be discovered with 3 questions from Cilla Black.

Poems of loss and loneliness are fine in their place, but I yearn to write a paean to my muse, a woman who makes my soul sing and the words well up inside me and burst abundantly and joyously onto the page.

I’m afraid I am living proof of the romantic ideal of the starving artist, but for the right woman, the spiritual and artistic nourishment will be plentiful.

Someone to inspire me to greater feats of love and poetry than I have ever reached before. A pair of wings on which to soar the heights and, buffeted perhaps by the turbulence of life, bring me safely back to the nest afterwards.

My writing is my life, but all experience is grist to the artistic mill. It’s amazing what you can do with very little in London. I love to walk along the Thames, imagining the millions of people who have walked the same spot, conjecturing about their lives, their dreams and their aspirations. It’s awe inspiring. So many stories played out over a lifetime, then lost.

I also enjoy deep, meaningful conversation over cheap wine long into the night and the joy that comes when two minds meet and connect as one.

I love to walk along the Thames, imagining the millions of people who have walked the same spot, conjecturing about their lives, their dreams and their aspirations. It’s awe inspiring. So many stories played out over a lifetime, then lost.

I would die without poetry. The Bell Jar is a classic of course, but also more modern works. Peter Reading is a favourite. I also love my old coat. It’s shabby and full of holes now, but I love it.

I have several on the go. Re-reading The Thought Gang, reading and disparaging The Da Vinci Code and thoroughly enjoying One Day In The Life of Ivan Denisovich.

There is no God. I thought Shelley had made that clear a long time ago. But there is beauty, which is, I suppose, a manifestation of the divine.

Formal education is overrated. Tests prove only that you can pass exams and remember facts – much as a parrot can. How many great artists were not appreciated in their day, only to be considered genius viewed through the prism of history.

posted by Peter The Great @ 3:20 PM