what-is-itIt is said speculation is the spice on the lumpy porridge of history. Satire is the plums. History itself is a morass, a bowl from which a spoon may hold juicy raisins as likely as recalcitrant nuts. With the cream and maple syrup of human discovery, is the gristly lumpen oats of the doings of cardinals and kings, that must be chewed over endlessly in order to get any taste, a newly refound bone like crunchy sugar makes it more palatable. But it is a mouthful that has been chewed first thusly and then otherly, it has been slurped, sucked and roundly munched, crunched, jawed, swallowed, digested and regurgitated. It is the cud of a great and brazen cow with endless stomachs. It is the lowing and clucking and raucous braying of farmed gossip. The he-said she-said of deserved infamy. Debate the perturbations of haggling tut-tutters. It is not the eponymous book. 3/6 worth of an odd bird. History is a toad. In a whole. A dog’s breakfast. The elaboration of ill remembered mischief. The ashes of marvels. It is a question often answered. That from which we repeatedly learn nothing.

About The Author

C S Hughes

C S Hughes is a proud member of the TV generation, studied film and communications, collects the paperback books of Philip K Dick, loves science fiction and fantasy books, B grade movies and cult TV, American thrillers and British noir, restoring vintage watches, reading poetry, creating innovative illustrated poetry books which are available in Apple’s iBooks format, and cake. Especially cake. He has also written short stories, and has a collection of horror stories coming out in 2015.

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