Even The Unclean Spirits Despise Me

In the Kingdom I was King and I was also the not-King. I was the Majestic One, the Exalted One, the Imperator, but I was also the scum of the earth, the vilest of the vile. Hard to believe, isn’t it? Such was the Kingdom. I was lowlier than the scum that collects on the surface of the most stagnant of ponds, viler than the vilest of unclean human discharges, and yet I was also King. I was King and it is important not to forget that. I was Top Dog, I was the Head Honcho, I was the Numero Uno. I was the Bossman; I was El Supremo. I was adorned in the finest lineaments, clothed in the rarest and most expensive fabrics. And yet I was also – at one and the same time – the most scurrilous of jackasses, reviled by all. Even the lowliest cur in the street reviled me, as I believe I have said elsewhere. The dregs of society shun me when they see me coming. They turn the other way in disgust, so lowly is my station. Regularly, the dregs of society band together to form a committee and then they all beat a path to my door, they come up to me to tell me that I can’t stay here, that I have to go. I am informed that I have to go and hang out somewhere else, somewhere where I will not offend the sensibilities of decent folks. It’s all relative, you see.


How does that make you feel, I hear you ask. How does it make you feel to be unceremoniously moved on as an undesirable by the veritable dregs of society? To be shunned and ostracized by those who are themselves outcasts, on account of their abject lowliness, their utter lack of respectability? You know well how that feels I fancy, you just want to hear me say it. You want to hear me come out with the actual words, so that nothing is left to the imagination. It’s like slowing down to observe a traffic accident. You want to see it for yourself. I’m so lowly that even the unclean spirits that hang about in cemeteries and public parks band together to drive me away. Get out of here, they say. You can’t stay here. Be off with you, tainted one. Go on, move off and afflict somewhere else with your presence. Don’t bring your bad luck here to us, say the unclean spirits. Sling your hook…


So how does that make you feel, you ask. Keen to hear me say the actual words. Keen to hear it from the horse’s mouth. How does it make you feel how does it make you feel how does it make you feel how does it make you feel how does it make you feel? How does that make you feel? Your Highness, your Lordship, your Majesty…







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