Jazminda The Living Stage

Ladies and gentlemen, so glad to have your attention. I’d love to tell you what my name is, but sadly I’m none too sure what it is. Or what yours are. Thank you all so much for drawing my attention to this. As I was saying, there are many things between earth and heaven that we cannot understand. Indeed, one is before you now! I produce for you, here and now, the inconceivable wonder that is Jazminda the Living Stage! See his blood-red curtains; see how they ripple in gratitude of your attention! We found him, starved, soaked and shivering, behind a battered cinema block in the outskirts of Tropical Sofija. Yet he is here, for us all tonight! We fed him, as he asked us, without the crass medium of words, on young, ripe pomegranates, sheep’s milk and original copies of classic childhood stories. It is no small triumph that he can be here tonight – we can thank the power of Enid Blyton, her golliwog cronies and the magical might of the pomegranate that Jazminda is here at all. I feel his strong, feminine heartbeat, beneath my feet, and feel, in my cortex, his deep purr, sour as syrup. Ladies and gentlemen, that is not polish on his surface. It is not even soil! No, instead, Jazminda perspires pure blood plasma! Yes, that is correct, ladies and gentlemen! If Jazminda had the inclination to, he could save countless AIDS patients! Yet he does not. Instead, he wants to perform for us all! Yes, purr, my sweet, it is your time to shine! I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, as I get behind this piano, to think about possibility. Yes, The Corruption of Possibility will be shown on Jazminda tonight! You, sir! Yes, you – you lucky, callipered soul! Please, rise up onto Jazminda, and take a card. Just show it to the audience... Four of Diamonds, sir! Congratulations, you have all just witnessed the Corruption of Possibility. You had 52 cards to choose from, and yet fate has drawn you to this one – that which you had but a one in 52 chance of choosing. As you leave this stage, to the music of a mournful Yiddish choir, played in its entirety on this piano, please think about this... Oh, sir! You’ve fallen! Feel the unsettled throb of Jazminda inside your cerebellum and spinal cord! He is angered, and has consequently caused the great Republic of Andorra and Kuwait to declare war on the Sun and his devilishly handsome and suave brother-at-arms, Sister Moon! Jazminda can manifest this to you now, symbolically. See, behind the curtain that represents the line between consciousness and sanity: Liam Gallagher locked in mortal combat with his arch enemy, Andrew Sachs. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, due to Jazminda’s perfidious influence, their marriage has once again turned sour! See how Andrew Sachs, resplendent in the pelts of countless field mice, has sharpened a chicken bone, using his nails, whereas Liam Gallagher, defending the rights of cartography and clad in nutshells, is merely using a poor quality chair leg, sharpened on the teeth of the original members of Bon Jovi. None can say who will win. Yet you, sir, are in the enviable position of separating them! To avoid pressure, and the fear of making the wrong decision, it is not advised that you know that the wrong choice will lead to the loss of your wife... yet although it seems as though Gallagher, wielding the power of countless geographers, as he does, would seem to be the logical choice, I’m afraid it wasn’t the one necessary to save your wife. She is, as we speak, being sold on the Mediterranean Stock Exchange of Lithuania and Paraguay. The price of her soul? A single groat. Tonight, this is shown by Tim Wannacott struggling to use an open window. Thank you very much, I have been Somebody. And this is Jazminda the Living Stage. I thank you for your time and your cytoplasm. I leave you with the thought that I was once called decadent. I stuffed him with peacock feathers and the concentrated juice of an albino oyster. Moltsumesc!