Join my new cult it’s free and guaranties eternal ecstasy. You will be transported by sedan chair (teli-portion I’m working on, ok!), carried by celestial, well racked virgins, or handsome, well hung hunks, according to persuasion. Nirvana, Valhalla, will be replaced by a beautiful, many tiered cake of overhanging limestone, and some derelict half built workman’s huts. You must sign all your earthly riches away to me, because I will cater for your few needs, chiefly chalk and carrots. You will become godlike, but remain humble, and forever strong, and young. You will have a mid west accent, but somehow be able to complete full sentences, your mother might become proud of you, or as your new surrogate parents, I will be proud of you, and send you warm Emails from the Cayman Islands. I promise to get you up a 5.9 rockclimb, a V10, or Everest, or a bit of Scottish snow/moss/gunge/heather, or all of these, nothing, is beyond our multi-tasking mountain persons grasp. And also, at no extra charge, you get free access to my reams of righteous poetry, and sheafs of saintly ecstatic stuff, and be allowed to see my sublime simian art work, all instantly downloadable and linked to my sponsors pages. As soon as you join you get a free Tee shirt, with a breathing exercise in "scratch and sniff" on the back, its invisible, which even I thought was a very cool touch. In the second week you get some beads (these are not free but are coloured) and are taught how to comb your hair, not with a comb, but to artistically arrange it in the prescribed monkish manner with a tooth brush. You will not recognize yourself. Organic and hydroponically grown aromatic strong herbs will see to that. Other perks include seeing your ribs and having a reason to get up later every day.
Each acolyte will be given an animal totem/symbol/name/thingy so if in the previous life you were blond and intelligent, you will now be called the golden Labrador. If you were called Jack before, your new name is Ass, if you were chubby you are now called Porker etc.
Now you can listen to some ethereal music I spliced together from an erupting geyser in Yellowstone Park, some whales being amorous, and the music of Pulps Common people in Hindi. Please remember to live simply, take care of your carbon footprint, clean your nails, and buy extremely expensive, very seldomly used gear. I will leave you with the immortal words of Monsieur Minks the first Brit Guru to solo the Walker Spur, and a guru amoung out of work Scouse plumbers, one of the first and founding members of our secret, shrouded in smoke society, ‘Pass the chutney, and the chillum, duck, I’m feeling saintly and a bit peckish’.
