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Commentary on "The Rime of the Moderne Musick Master"

This thing called poetic license seems to be little more than an excuse to tell lies. Yes, I was interviewed by Goldman-Sachs, but did not actually get a job offer. Nonetheless, I would think it unlikely that in this organisation minor misdemeanors would normally be punished by being urinated on, nor would I imagine it necessary to be skilled in the arts of fellatio in order to gain advancement career-wise; at least, not if one is a man. The rest of the opus is more or less accurate, except for the fact that Steve has since managed to escape the vengeance-bent wedding-guests by disguising himself as a wild haggis (in which guise he inveigled himself onto a British Caledonian flight bound for LA) and that the ‘music of the spheres’ is of dark symphonic might (not ‘harmonic’ might). No doubt Mr. Henrey was trying to impress us; but would it really have been all that difficult for him to check his facts before committing pen to paper? (CH).

Stone the flamin’ crows, you pommie poofter, have you never heard, or heard of, the Harmony of the Spheres, and do you think the supreme entity would stoop to use some scratchy, bogus, dingo-doos orchestra to lay down a groove, when there are euphonious worlds, nay, well wicked spiral galaxies, rankin’ Magellanic clouds and funky, bodacious supernovae with which to jam? Strewth! I beg to flamin’ differ, sirrah! (JHG).