LivingLiterature

The destruction of the October War and its aftermath had claimed the lives of over sixteen million French citizens, six million of whom perished in the destruction of Paris. Lyon, Marseilles, Nice and other major settlements had been outright destroyed alongside major military bases such as Brest naval arsenal. The largest surviving city proved to be Bordeaux, although the town had suffered heavy damage from a megaton-range detonation fifteen miles offshore. By early 1966, exploring parties from the UK, Ireland, Spain and Italy had effectively liberated the country from any remaining criminal bands and Soviet-backed fiefdoms, with attention turning to how to provide for and govern the 31 million surviving Frenchmen. It was determined by the European allies that the Fifth Republic constitution would provide the best way forward, albeit one with a few tweaks. Bordeaux would be the seat of government until such time that reconstruction and decontamination of Paris could allow governance

There is an old adage that you can always judge a man by the quality of his enemies. This is not something that has ever vibed with Milkman. After all, idiocy attracts idiocy. Just look at politics, for fuck’s sake. A truly great hero would fight dangerous villains, not random people he meets in the street and assumes are actually supervillains despite all evidence to the contrary. As a point of fact, Milkman has spent more time than is possibly healthy wondering why his own personal rogues’ gallery consists of a single deranged performance artist, the former special adviser to Boris Johnson and his own social worker; yet not for one second entertaining the idea that, as the common denominator, he could be the problem. The story that follows illustrates this. For it was in The Year After The Year After The Year of The Three Prime Ministers that Milkman found himself locked in a multi-storey car park, armed with nothing but his wits, while facing a terrifying hoard of weirdness. The

Ooh, the blue of the morning sky, so smooth and sweet, so pure and true Cric-crac, croon the agreeable birds, Oo-oo-oo, ah! The sunshine light on the day, Oo-oo-oo, ah! The river is running clean and cool Oo-oo-oo, ah! The lake glistens in the morning light so smooth and silky, no crease, no wrinkle The leaves dance in a gentle sway in tune with the birds, to whom they sing Ripples on the cool water edges Oo-oo-oo, ah! The song of the river can be heard Oo-oo-oo, ah! The steps of my feet make the path rhythmically like a snare drum in a blues change My thoughts drift and spin 'round and 'round like a graceful spinning top The long leg strides step on the stone, pounding out a tune for me And by evening, I can feel the soft sun rays on my cheek, the cool water on my toe, the winds gently caressing my hair As the smell of jasmine pervades the air and stars begin to glimmer out of the night sky, I look up and smile, with my teeth glistening bright as the ending words of the day