"There will be no peace as long as Kirk lives!"
Please excuse me, but sometimes you just have to quote a little. There's no withstanding that urge. You could be wandering along quite peacefully, and then suddenly that feeling comes over you and you just have to say:
"Some days you just can't get rid of a bomb."
Oh, what joys lie in wait for the compulsive quoter, and what troubles. You can hardly use the last quote while waiting to board a plane, or asking a question of a policeman, for example. Before you knew it, you would be off to a holding cell, while members of the secret service stampede down from London to ask you all kinds of questions about your dog's shoe size and the reasons for your choice of Maine as your favourite state in the Union.
"Of course you forget, Peter. I was present at an undersea, unexplained mass sponge migration."
Incidentally, if you get any of these infamous movie quotes you will win two Quirky Muffin bonus points, redeemable for absolutely nothing but the honour of knowing nerdy things.
"Just by asking that question, you put me down to a level four. You now owe me 2000 energon cubes."
Sometime in the next week, the final part of 'Oneiromancy' will be completed and posted. This is daunting in the extreme! Until that happens there will be no reviews or other story segments. None! There will be no talk about ejecting out of the 'Modesty Blaise' movie in its first ten minutes due to utterly abominable performances, no review of the book 'This Island Earth', and no chatter about the final season of 'Parks and Recreation' that has recently landed through the post slot. None! You - the fictional you - will have to wait and see what happens, and then shudder with relief once it's all over.
"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
Communication through the Dreamline was a neat idea, and there's a better story waiting out there somewhere; a story that will use the conceit better. Maybe the long fabled complete rewrite will do the job, bearing in mind that the rewrites of the first phases of 'Triangles' and 'Wordspace' remain to be done... It seems like there's a mountain of work to be done, even before counting all the maths and job applications!
"Hop it, hoppy."
O.
Saturday, 13 June 2015
Thursday, 11 June 2015
Story: Oneiromancy, XXIV
(Part O , XXIII , XXV)
The Professor stared at the crying Stanley Simonson, and then awkwardly began patting him on the shoulder. "Well, lad, what's this all about then?" The man continued to shudder. "Now, now."
Stanley, so far stoic through it all, wept for a long time and then came up dry. The professor looked at him concernedly, and Stanley began to throw out words from the cautious recovery that follows every intense bout of tears.
"For so long, for years, I had strange dreams. I tried to stop sleeping. People thought I was going mad. Then I began to take things just to get through the nights in one piece. I was haunted, but I made it through. I thought I was mad, or differently crazy, but now I know I'm not crazy. There really are strange things happening, and that Tweedy Woman has been haunting me for an awfully long time. I'm not crazy. Am I?" He asked the professor.
"Well, lad, we're all crazy in our own ways you know." The professor looked abashed for a moment. "I could tell you things about dear old Kibbel that would astound you, but perhaps another occasion would be better for that. Do you feel recovered? Let me get you a glass of water." Goosing stumbled over to the other side of the room and poured a bottle of water into a pint glass, and returned with rather more care and rather less shambling to the bedside. (This was one professor who liked his academic shamble.)
"Yes, I think I feel better. It's been a long time since I had such a release. I've been like a sleepwalker for the last few years, just playing it safe and getting through life in one piece." Stanley looked around, for the first time since waking. "Where is she?"
"Your lady companion has gone off to wash and freshen up. I'll not tell her what us boys have been up to, I think. What happened after she left you Over There?" Goosing continued to look at him reassuringly.
"I untied the prisoner. What consequences will follow, I couldn't tell you." Stanley outlined the details of the small interview he had had with the prisoner in the collective unconscious.
Professor Eobard Goosing was keeping an astute eye on his charge, but still mused on what he heard. "You realise that if you and Helen return there you could be in the middle of a conflict?"
"We'll certainly be in the middle of something!" The teacher looked at the researcher with some determination showing for the first time. "I'll tell you one thing, professor: Whatever we do end up in, that fellow is going to need help with the fiend who imprisoned him the first time. He's going to need us."
"That, my lad, is the reason why we're going to make some preparations. You and Miss Ostrander, while undoubtedly being quite busy, aren't the only ones to have been occupying yourselves. Kibbel and I have a plan to level the playing field, so to speak. You may even enjoy it." The professor smiled thinly. "Your opponent will be surprised, if nothing else. Then, when there's time, I'll help you understand what's been happening with you your whole life."
"Yes. After."
Next time: Showdown at the Butternut Squash.
The Professor stared at the crying Stanley Simonson, and then awkwardly began patting him on the shoulder. "Well, lad, what's this all about then?" The man continued to shudder. "Now, now."
Stanley, so far stoic through it all, wept for a long time and then came up dry. The professor looked at him concernedly, and Stanley began to throw out words from the cautious recovery that follows every intense bout of tears.
"For so long, for years, I had strange dreams. I tried to stop sleeping. People thought I was going mad. Then I began to take things just to get through the nights in one piece. I was haunted, but I made it through. I thought I was mad, or differently crazy, but now I know I'm not crazy. There really are strange things happening, and that Tweedy Woman has been haunting me for an awfully long time. I'm not crazy. Am I?" He asked the professor.
"Well, lad, we're all crazy in our own ways you know." The professor looked abashed for a moment. "I could tell you things about dear old Kibbel that would astound you, but perhaps another occasion would be better for that. Do you feel recovered? Let me get you a glass of water." Goosing stumbled over to the other side of the room and poured a bottle of water into a pint glass, and returned with rather more care and rather less shambling to the bedside. (This was one professor who liked his academic shamble.)
"Yes, I think I feel better. It's been a long time since I had such a release. I've been like a sleepwalker for the last few years, just playing it safe and getting through life in one piece." Stanley looked around, for the first time since waking. "Where is she?"
"Your lady companion has gone off to wash and freshen up. I'll not tell her what us boys have been up to, I think. What happened after she left you Over There?" Goosing continued to look at him reassuringly.
"I untied the prisoner. What consequences will follow, I couldn't tell you." Stanley outlined the details of the small interview he had had with the prisoner in the collective unconscious.
Professor Eobard Goosing was keeping an astute eye on his charge, but still mused on what he heard. "You realise that if you and Helen return there you could be in the middle of a conflict?"
"We'll certainly be in the middle of something!" The teacher looked at the researcher with some determination showing for the first time. "I'll tell you one thing, professor: Whatever we do end up in, that fellow is going to need help with the fiend who imprisoned him the first time. He's going to need us."
"That, my lad, is the reason why we're going to make some preparations. You and Miss Ostrander, while undoubtedly being quite busy, aren't the only ones to have been occupying yourselves. Kibbel and I have a plan to level the playing field, so to speak. You may even enjoy it." The professor smiled thinly. "Your opponent will be surprised, if nothing else. Then, when there's time, I'll help you understand what's been happening with you your whole life."
"Yes. After."
Next time: Showdown at the Butternut Squash.
Tuesday, 9 June 2015
A Hodge Podge
Tiredness strikes, and a stream of words is faltering through these fingers. Could it be that it's just too late in the day to be trying to extemporise? We'll see, we'll see. It's a fascinating time to be writing, in the wake of several job rejections and a birthday, and with whole new worlds to try and explore in the days to come. Research is picking up steam again, as motivation begins to build, and bids keep going in for translation projects without ever winning. Where does the future path lie? Teaching English abroad? Research? Endless dithering?
The future vistas never go away. That grand horizon of opportunity is always there, if you can keep your eyes upon it and not be swayed by the grim realities of everyday reality. Sometimes life is great, and serves up delights galore, but it also has this innate habit of bringing down your ambitions at every turn, and trying to kill that sense of wonder that drives us onward. The opportunities are always there, if you can only allow yourself to see them. Even on the deathbed, you might have to wonder at the vista of what might be there. We have no idea, none, of what that undiscovered country might be, and what vistas will be seen, if any. However, enough unnecessary talk about death, in this grand week of frozen summer sunshine.
Gosh, these words are difficult. A few days of article editing can be very disruptive as can determined solitude away from the things of man. Communication, and I've bored about this before, is a skill and one that needs to be exercised. That's what this is for, whether it's reviews, stories or simply blather. Today was all about reshelving books in the village library and doesn't lend itself well to prose in this frame of mind, and the short story 'Oneiromancy' is back on hiatus after being interrupted by innumerable things including a trip to Aberystwyth. Where is that story going? It's a mystery, in that finding a fitting ending is always difficult. Oh, that brings up something interesting about narrative structures and rules. I'll just clear my head for a moment.
Ahem.
People think that there have to be rules about being creative. Isn't that crazy? They think that you have to write books in chapters, or films in three or nine acts, or poems and short stories in a fixed pattern. Why do you think that is? Why are there so many rules about so many things? Why? In finding a way to finish a serial story satisfyingly, or any story, you really need to put all those rules away in a box and try to think in a new way. What new way? It's different for each person. Will I succeed in this case, or for 'The Glove', 'The Ninja Of Health' or even the eventual second phases of 'Triangles' and 'Wordspace'? Perhaps and perhaps not, but any failure will not be for wont of trying!
O.
The future vistas never go away. That grand horizon of opportunity is always there, if you can keep your eyes upon it and not be swayed by the grim realities of everyday reality. Sometimes life is great, and serves up delights galore, but it also has this innate habit of bringing down your ambitions at every turn, and trying to kill that sense of wonder that drives us onward. The opportunities are always there, if you can only allow yourself to see them. Even on the deathbed, you might have to wonder at the vista of what might be there. We have no idea, none, of what that undiscovered country might be, and what vistas will be seen, if any. However, enough unnecessary talk about death, in this grand week of frozen summer sunshine.
Gosh, these words are difficult. A few days of article editing can be very disruptive as can determined solitude away from the things of man. Communication, and I've bored about this before, is a skill and one that needs to be exercised. That's what this is for, whether it's reviews, stories or simply blather. Today was all about reshelving books in the village library and doesn't lend itself well to prose in this frame of mind, and the short story 'Oneiromancy' is back on hiatus after being interrupted by innumerable things including a trip to Aberystwyth. Where is that story going? It's a mystery, in that finding a fitting ending is always difficult. Oh, that brings up something interesting about narrative structures and rules. I'll just clear my head for a moment.
Ahem.
People think that there have to be rules about being creative. Isn't that crazy? They think that you have to write books in chapters, or films in three or nine acts, or poems and short stories in a fixed pattern. Why do you think that is? Why are there so many rules about so many things? Why? In finding a way to finish a serial story satisfyingly, or any story, you really need to put all those rules away in a box and try to think in a new way. What new way? It's different for each person. Will I succeed in this case, or for 'The Glove', 'The Ninja Of Health' or even the eventual second phases of 'Triangles' and 'Wordspace'? Perhaps and perhaps not, but any failure will not be for wont of trying!
O.
Sunday, 7 June 2015
Television: 'Randall And Hopkirk, Deceased' (1969-1970)
One of the most fascinating obscure television shows ever made? A grand melding of drama, action and comedy, set against ghostly themes of mortality? A daft bit of nonsense? An excuse for ghostly special effects and two regulation fights per episode? All of the above? Yes, it's all of the above. 'Randall And Hopkirk, Deceased' was one of those shows we used to watch for its silliness in reruns, along with 'Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea', but now it's better than the vast majority of shows currently airing. What a time it was in the 1960s for making shows of broad mass appeal, and what a thing that's been lost! Oh, nostalgia for a time I never saw.
So, 'Randall And Hopkirk, Deceased' was a television series that ran for exactly one season, and was created by the legendary Dennis Spooner. Starring Mike Pratt as Jeff Randall, private detective, and Kenneth Cope as his late business partner Marty Hopkirk, it ran haphazardly and erratically for twenty six action packed episodes of noirish crime, femmes fatales, ghostly parody, and much of the invisible partner 'shtick' that would be resurrected for the invincible duo of Sam Beckett and Al Calavicci in 'Quantum Leap' many years later. The formula was simple after the introductory episode: Jeff takes on a case, which turns out to be a ruse of some kind and sold to him by a beautiful woman, gets into a lot of trouble, and then has to be rescued by Marty in some way. Usually widow Jeannie Hopkirk would be somehow involved (played by Annette Andre), and all would be resolved after Jeff had lost at least one fight and won the last. That formula, however, would be routinely tinkered with and bent as much as possible, and that humour was increasingly built into the show's bones as it went on. It was a cheeky series in its writing, and far more clever than it first appeared.
For a series that you might consider a dismal failure on its first showing, it surely has lived on a long time, via repeats and fond memories. The writing is one key to that longevity, as is the remarkable central acting duo of Pratt and Cope. Once again, Britain wins out for casting on ability as well as telegenic appeal. Yes, Pratt's Jeff does look a bit lived in, but he sells it with great gravitas and Cope's comic abilities shine magnificently after a brief settling in period. The comedy was a tough sell to producers of a show already in production and it works once they begin to lean to it. Did you ever see a ghost dance a can can with a bunch of show girls? Well, you will now. Another thing that is remarkable is the extent to which they mastered the various methods for Marty's ghostly shenanigans. Never has the jump cut or transparency or even the ghostly gale been used so well or expertly. I wonder how they do super-breath anyway? That's a good question to ask a Superman fan, if you know one.
It's fascinating to note the continuing impact of 'Randall and Hopkirk, Deceased'. The central mechanic was re-used in 'Quantum Leap' and probably other series, and was probably inherited a little from Spooner's inspiration, the film 'Angel On My Shoulder'. Ghosts have appeared in films for almost as long as there have been films, but how many of those shows or movies got a remake, even a disappointing one? How many lived on in repeats for decades? 'Randall And Hopkirk' has, and it continues to spread to new fans. That must mean that it's a classic. A lot of excellent shows are, you know.
O.
So, 'Randall And Hopkirk, Deceased' was a television series that ran for exactly one season, and was created by the legendary Dennis Spooner. Starring Mike Pratt as Jeff Randall, private detective, and Kenneth Cope as his late business partner Marty Hopkirk, it ran haphazardly and erratically for twenty six action packed episodes of noirish crime, femmes fatales, ghostly parody, and much of the invisible partner 'shtick' that would be resurrected for the invincible duo of Sam Beckett and Al Calavicci in 'Quantum Leap' many years later. The formula was simple after the introductory episode: Jeff takes on a case, which turns out to be a ruse of some kind and sold to him by a beautiful woman, gets into a lot of trouble, and then has to be rescued by Marty in some way. Usually widow Jeannie Hopkirk would be somehow involved (played by Annette Andre), and all would be resolved after Jeff had lost at least one fight and won the last. That formula, however, would be routinely tinkered with and bent as much as possible, and that humour was increasingly built into the show's bones as it went on. It was a cheeky series in its writing, and far more clever than it first appeared.
For a series that you might consider a dismal failure on its first showing, it surely has lived on a long time, via repeats and fond memories. The writing is one key to that longevity, as is the remarkable central acting duo of Pratt and Cope. Once again, Britain wins out for casting on ability as well as telegenic appeal. Yes, Pratt's Jeff does look a bit lived in, but he sells it with great gravitas and Cope's comic abilities shine magnificently after a brief settling in period. The comedy was a tough sell to producers of a show already in production and it works once they begin to lean to it. Did you ever see a ghost dance a can can with a bunch of show girls? Well, you will now. Another thing that is remarkable is the extent to which they mastered the various methods for Marty's ghostly shenanigans. Never has the jump cut or transparency or even the ghostly gale been used so well or expertly. I wonder how they do super-breath anyway? That's a good question to ask a Superman fan, if you know one.
It's fascinating to note the continuing impact of 'Randall and Hopkirk, Deceased'. The central mechanic was re-used in 'Quantum Leap' and probably other series, and was probably inherited a little from Spooner's inspiration, the film 'Angel On My Shoulder'. Ghosts have appeared in films for almost as long as there have been films, but how many of those shows or movies got a remake, even a disappointing one? How many lived on in repeats for decades? 'Randall And Hopkirk' has, and it continues to spread to new fans. That must mean that it's a classic. A lot of excellent shows are, you know.
O.
Friday, 5 June 2015
Last week, on this bat-channel...
Last week, during 'We Have Concerns', I wrote about the reports we had been getting of planned changes to our little village library, which we run as volunteers and as a community project under the country library service. A lot of the report was exaggerated, but we are going to be refurbished, and our stock of paper books essentially reduced without our agreement, which seems somehow wrong. You wouldn't expect local government to be so tyrannical but it is, despite new book budgets being stated to be higher than they have been for ages. The problem is that they seem committed only to buying in new books, slashing the stocks they already have, and centralising all policy, all of which seems strange. You would hope that there is some contingency in there for the classics, but hoping things when bureaucracy and politics is involved is rarely wise. We will have to wait and see...
Look, up in the sky, is it a backwards upside down flying pig called Horatio? Is it the world of wonder turning and turning as the fate of Film Bin flutters in and out of phase with reality? Is the Quirky Muffin flitting further into the realms of fantasy with every passing day, or will the beneficial powers of the recent haircut push everything back into equilibrium? And what does it mean to be deeply buried under chores so much that being unemployed becomes meaningless?
Oh, Film Bin, the podcast of uncertain fate... It's very difficult to bring so many disparate people together and produce fan commentaries for so long. With all the good will in the world, if your collaborators don't like 'Ball of Fire', then maybe they should be shown the podcast door to the cyber-Underworld, whether they're family or not. Ditto for 'Explorers'. Be gone, dislikers of Howard Hawks, there can be no refuge for you here! Oh, maybe it's not that bad, but good grief it is getting hard to find things we can all watch without ending up violently disagreeing or bashing someone else's choice. It was never supposed to be about bashing, but the reverse! We'll have to see how it goes, amidst the tortures of article editing, mathematics and fruitless searches of work.
Mathematics? Did you see the word 'mathematics'? It might be a harbinger of things to come, so be afraid. Very, very afraid. Mwahahahahahaha. Ha.
O.
Look, up in the sky, is it a backwards upside down flying pig called Horatio? Is it the world of wonder turning and turning as the fate of Film Bin flutters in and out of phase with reality? Is the Quirky Muffin flitting further into the realms of fantasy with every passing day, or will the beneficial powers of the recent haircut push everything back into equilibrium? And what does it mean to be deeply buried under chores so much that being unemployed becomes meaningless?
Oh, Film Bin, the podcast of uncertain fate... It's very difficult to bring so many disparate people together and produce fan commentaries for so long. With all the good will in the world, if your collaborators don't like 'Ball of Fire', then maybe they should be shown the podcast door to the cyber-Underworld, whether they're family or not. Ditto for 'Explorers'. Be gone, dislikers of Howard Hawks, there can be no refuge for you here! Oh, maybe it's not that bad, but good grief it is getting hard to find things we can all watch without ending up violently disagreeing or bashing someone else's choice. It was never supposed to be about bashing, but the reverse! We'll have to see how it goes, amidst the tortures of article editing, mathematics and fruitless searches of work.
Mathematics? Did you see the word 'mathematics'? It might be a harbinger of things to come, so be afraid. Very, very afraid. Mwahahahahahaha. Ha.
O.
Wednesday, 3 June 2015
Comedy: Paul Merton And His Impro Chums
That was fascinating. I may have been zonked out due to exhaustion and long term dejection, and thus incapable of appreciating comedy at any level, but it was still interesting. I suspect it may even have been funny! There will be no details, however, for fear of spoiling. All I will mention is the Druid's Robe, and leave you wondering.
It was fascinating to see Paul Merton in what must be his most natural habitat, and yet he remains exactly the same personality that you've seen in a thousand episodes of 'Have I Got News For You' and listened to in 'Just A Minute'. There he stood amongst his troupe. Yes, he is part of a longstanding improvisation troupe that includes Mike McShane, Suki Webster (the Bride of Merton), and two other blokes. Who would have known? (The two other blokes are Lee Simpson and Richard Vranch.)
One of the unique aspects of improvisation is the audience participation: Every portion of the evening is partly determined by details supplied by the audience, prompting a different content every night within a partly fixed set of games or bits. At least, I assume it's a parly fixed set of bits! It surely can't be an entirely different performance each evening, that's for sure. It must be impossible to perform an entire improvisational tour and not build around some structure for each night! I know I couldn't do it, but then I'm only one person! More viewing is necessary.
Yes, in retrospect it was a good evening in the windswept rainy misery land of Swansea. How brave that gallant five must have been to venture this far off the beaten track, and how valiant to soldier on through it all! It was a brave performance, especially when you consider that they're so close to the end of their tour. The only thing that put me off was that it got a bit sweary after the intermission, which otherwise spoilt the most improvisational part of the evening for me personally. It's so troublesome to be so sensitive!
Oliver.
It was fascinating to see Paul Merton in what must be his most natural habitat, and yet he remains exactly the same personality that you've seen in a thousand episodes of 'Have I Got News For You' and listened to in 'Just A Minute'. There he stood amongst his troupe. Yes, he is part of a longstanding improvisation troupe that includes Mike McShane, Suki Webster (the Bride of Merton), and two other blokes. Who would have known? (The two other blokes are Lee Simpson and Richard Vranch.)
One of the unique aspects of improvisation is the audience participation: Every portion of the evening is partly determined by details supplied by the audience, prompting a different content every night within a partly fixed set of games or bits. At least, I assume it's a parly fixed set of bits! It surely can't be an entirely different performance each evening, that's for sure. It must be impossible to perform an entire improvisational tour and not build around some structure for each night! I know I couldn't do it, but then I'm only one person! More viewing is necessary.
Yes, in retrospect it was a good evening in the windswept rainy misery land of Swansea. How brave that gallant five must have been to venture this far off the beaten track, and how valiant to soldier on through it all! It was a brave performance, especially when you consider that they're so close to the end of their tour. The only thing that put me off was that it got a bit sweary after the intermission, which otherwise spoilt the most improvisational part of the evening for me personally. It's so troublesome to be so sensitive!
Oliver.
Monday, 1 June 2015
Off To The Improv
It's easier to write posts when you're busy doing things, and tonight I'll be off to see 'Paul Merton and his Improv Chums'. Will it be good? Hopefully? Will it be nice to get out of the house? Yes! Would it be better if it weren't quite so late, in Swansea, and a dreaded birthday present? Probably. Birthdays! Oh, birthdays aren't so bad, but it would be nice if they weren't highlighted quite so much. It will be fun to see Paul Merton live, that great figure from so many episodes of 'Just A Minute' and 'Have I Got News For You'. Apparently, he is a real person. Who would have thought it? Do you think Tony Hawks is real too?
In other trivial news, I broke finally into the fourth and final season of 'Mork And Mindy', and the dynamic twosome finally got married, even though Mork turned into a dog. You wouldn't expect any different, really. If only they hadn't specified that stupid reverse aging back in season one, this would now all be so much easier. At least they've finally jettisoned the baggage of that imposed extended cast and reverted to something like the original setup. Is the curse of network meddling finally gone, but too late? Dawber and Williams may well be the most convincing, vulnerably and heartfelt couple I've ever seen in television show. Of course, it's all a great distraction from paper corrections, along with 'The Bionic Woman', 'Star Trek: The Next Generation' and the last few episodes of the beloved 'Addams Family'. Gosh, isn't archive television awesome? And archive literature too?
This is probably going to be a short Quirky Muffin, a prelude to the reaction to the show that is planned to go up tomorrow. It's so unusual to be going anywhere in the evening, and nerve-inducing. At least a double bill of classic 'Star Trek' earlier with the parents calmed things down a little, as has my continued trek through the epic 'Journey To The West'. If I ever finish all four volumes then I'll be able to watch the series 'Monkey'. Four volumes, comprising thousands of pages, including some extensive extremely blank verse. At least, I assume it's blank verse. In the original language, it was probably not blank at all.
That's enough. A shirt must be retrieved, and perhaps a tie. A tie? No, that would be madness! Never the tie!
O.
In other trivial news, I broke finally into the fourth and final season of 'Mork And Mindy', and the dynamic twosome finally got married, even though Mork turned into a dog. You wouldn't expect any different, really. If only they hadn't specified that stupid reverse aging back in season one, this would now all be so much easier. At least they've finally jettisoned the baggage of that imposed extended cast and reverted to something like the original setup. Is the curse of network meddling finally gone, but too late? Dawber and Williams may well be the most convincing, vulnerably and heartfelt couple I've ever seen in television show. Of course, it's all a great distraction from paper corrections, along with 'The Bionic Woman', 'Star Trek: The Next Generation' and the last few episodes of the beloved 'Addams Family'. Gosh, isn't archive television awesome? And archive literature too?
This is probably going to be a short Quirky Muffin, a prelude to the reaction to the show that is planned to go up tomorrow. It's so unusual to be going anywhere in the evening, and nerve-inducing. At least a double bill of classic 'Star Trek' earlier with the parents calmed things down a little, as has my continued trek through the epic 'Journey To The West'. If I ever finish all four volumes then I'll be able to watch the series 'Monkey'. Four volumes, comprising thousands of pages, including some extensive extremely blank verse. At least, I assume it's blank verse. In the original language, it was probably not blank at all.
That's enough. A shirt must be retrieved, and perhaps a tie. A tie? No, that would be madness! Never the tie!
O.
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