Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.
I am Pavel.
It's a great honor to be here in this wonderful alcohol-soaked city of Edinburgh for this retrospective of my life and work.
Tonight, I hope you will come to understand a little bit
now about how I stand before you as the most original and important experimental animator of the last 25 years, as I was called by the British poet, Grave Charles.
It's nice for me to be here, especially because I live in London, in the south part of London, and
To be honest with you, my visa is about to expire.
And with this beard, it's not that much fun, really, to live there.
I have to move around everywhere, you know, very slowly.
And I don't like to wrap up too much, even when it gets cold.
It's nice to be in a city where you can
with a nice warm coat on without, you know, being shot in the face.
This is not, of course, the first time there has been any kind of retrospective of my works at Channel Film.
In fact, I had a short season of my animated pieces.
It was on a Tuesday, in fact.
at 2.30 in the morning, twenty years ago.
Is it?
Fuck them!
Perhaps I can refresh your brainiums with a few slides of some of my most well-known animated pieces.
Slight movement of dead fly's wings.
considered by many to be the most terrifying six-frame animation of all time.
The wavy line is dancing to the discordant sounds, which was a little bit of fun.
You know, talking is that kind of thing.
I get asked a lot, and the answer is yes, that is one of my pubic hairs.
The meaningless conveyor belt of modern life carries me to a huge smashing machine that crushes my tooth and of course, blackness.
Which took the notions of extraordinariness and originality and stabbed them repeatedly in the face until they were no longer recognizable.
Some of you may remember there was a certain amount of controversy when I entered it into the San Francisco Black Film Festival a few years ago.
Some of the judges had assumed it would be dealing with the experience of being in a black person rather than being two and a half hours of total blackness.
But I'm pleased to say for blackness fans
that the DVD company which released the sex lives of the potato men was very keen to release Blackness and bought this set, the last edition, with nine and a half hours of previously unseen Blackness.
Very excited about that.
Now, before I talk now about my extraordinary work, I would like to speak for the first time really about my youth, where I came from,
I was born and grew up in a small country called Gdansk.
I'll show it to you on the map here.
It's around about here somewhere.
It's a small breakaway state about 15 meters from the border of the former Ukraine.
It was a form of breakaway principality of the Republic of France.
It's complicated.
It's to do with an argument about eggs.
And some people think that white eggs are better than brown ones.
INWARD!
I'm fine, I'm fine.
What do you call it, really?
I still can't really see it very well.
It's a very small... It's a tiny country, really.
I go a little bit... No, probably.
It's the impossibility setting.
You know, like on Blade Runner.
Many of you are thinking, oh, Pantel, what was it like to grow up in this part of the world?
That's a very good question.
Thank you for asking, my friendly classes.
I suppose I would call it freezing and boring.
Those are really the two best words to describe it.
Extremely freezing and unbelievably boring, and then sometimes,
Excruciatingly freezing and unbearably boring.
It was... If you're the kind of person, for example, that likes somewhere in a realm that boring, it's not really for you.
You would always feel there was something missing.
It was so fucking cold.
that if you, for example, want a glass of water, you must buy a loaf of ice, take a slice, put it in your tail store, and then collect the water in the ground tray.
And the rich snooty people, I remember, would buy those little triangular crumb trays.
You know, two cocktails, that kind of thing.
And then, of course, there was the extreme boredom of living there that I had to deal with.
Most evenings, I would just hang out with the other guy, and we would stay
then sometimes a bit of fun and then we would run away before the abyss had a chance to stare back into us.
In those days, the suicide rate in France
was higher than the actual population.
It sounds impossible, I know, but you must take into account the tourist trade.
People come from all over the world to kill themselves.
Good times.
A few years later, the Depression hit, and then things got really bad.
My father was made predominant, and it was a tough time for my family.
I remember my mother would always say to me, oh, Pavel, don't be too hard on your father.
He's just a man who's trying to do his best for his family.
But to me, he was just a clown.
And I was never able to get close to him at all.
I don't know, maybe it was his great big floppy shoes, or the fact that he would poke his horn in my ear every time I got within two feet.
Still, I suppose, in many ways, he prepared me for a life in experimental animation.
After all, it was him that made me hate laughter and the sounds of joy.
My mother, she was a strong woman.
Well, the strong woman, in fact.
And would take a lot of steroid pills.
Maintained her muscle probism.
And because of that, she had kind of crazy mood swings.
One moment she would be screaming at me, and the next, she would be smothering me with affection.
And I should expect affection is like a kind of a pillow.
So for that reason, I feared her.
I was never really able to get to know either of my parents as well as I would have liked, and they died when I was really very young.
My father is a tragic, tragic really.
He accidentally bore my mother to death.
And he himself died a few days later from a massive overdose of water.
I have a picture of him.
Tonight.
Let's talk about tonight.
When I was asked to do this retrospective, I thought to myself, okay, I suppose I could go on stage, you know, talk about my work, my influences, that kind of thing.
Yes, that would be extremely predictable and shit!
I said, no, I won't do it!
But then later that night, when I was in my studio,
painting my bowels blank.
I thought to myself, maybe there is a way that I can create a retrospective that is in itself a piece of art.
Now, when I am creating art, many times I use one of these.
I call it the Random Genius Bag.
It's the kind of thing that might be used by David Bowie, Brian Eno, that kind of a person.
This one actually belonged to the rock band U2.
Did you see, this is by the way, the YouTube band at the festival, the rock festival for Africa, see the Africans, little kiddie people, and Antonio was saying, every time I click my fingers, another child has died.
Somebody's son, somebody's daughter.
Somebody sneezed.
Surely the answer is to get... STOP CLICKING HIS FINGERS!
I'M SAFE!
HE'S KILLING ME NOW!
Anyway, Claudio, when he was using this random genius bag, for example, would take out from it words and phrases contained within, and put them on the barrel, and arrange them in kind of crazy ways, and the agent and the rest of those fucking people would say...
colonial, move that down one there, change that to that, okay, album finished, nice.
When I took possession of the bag, there was still some U2 words left inside.
I think it was, yeah, come on, baby, globalization, and yeah.
Tonight, every single one of these words and phrases has something to do with my own life, and together,
we will create a completely unpredictable evening of retrospective.
Here's the first category that I picked out completely at random.
The adult world.
I put it in the down there.
Idiots!
One moment.
The 27 points.
Now, all I need to do
Pick one person.
This is exciting, isn't it?
I don't suppose you bourgeois people have ever really seen anything like this before.
It's blowing your fucking minds.
That's cool.
All you need to do now is pick one of these people and we can select one of these three categories and we can begin.
First, I will find the most attractive woman.
You can see.
There she is.
Hello.
I don't know how to pick one of these.
You, my friend, which would you like?
Idiot.
Idiots!
This section, first section tonight, refers to a part of my life when I was trying for the first time to get work as an experimental animator in London.
It was not very fucking easy, I must tell you, and things got really tough for me.
One morning I woke up and realized that, hmm,
I had run out of pornography.
I was scared, I won't lie to you.
I made a tough decision.
I went and took a meeting at the dirty house of Nickelodeon, the kiddies cartoon place.
There, I spoke to a man, well, I say a man, he was like a kind of 10-year-old who spoke to me about the possibility of me making some cartoons, as he called them, for Nickelodeon.
He showed me this one, in fact.
I'll show it to you now.
The sun is out.
The water is shimmering.
The scallops are chirping.
Spongy Bob Squarepants.
I don't know if you have seen this cartoon before.
Yes, you have.
It's about, I don't need to tell you, that it's about a yellow spongy man.
Correct me if I get anything wrong here.
He lives on the bottom of the sea.
He wears brown fucking shirts.
He has some friends who are fish.
Starfish, that kind of thing.
And that's about all I really can tell you about Spongebob Squarepants.
Well, they suggested that I have a go at an episode.
So I did my best.
I made a couple of tiny changes.
Tiny fucking changes.
The main one, I suppose, was to make him, instead of yellow,
Fuck!
I shot you, you see.
Well, they said that maybe it would be a bit confusing for the kitties.
I said, what?
I gave him a red laser.
What do you want?
I know kitties like red fucking lasers.
It was the first time I used color in any of my work, and they still didn't like it.
They said, don't worry.
I do not go into something else.
And they showed me this cartoon, Pokemon.
I don't know if you have seen Pokemon.
It's about a little guy called Ash.
He goes around the world, collects little monsters, and puts them in his fuckin' pockets.
Makes them fight sometimes.
I really don't understand what it's about at all, to be honest with you, but I had a go.
This time, sticking much more closely to the style of the fuckin' cartoon.
I'll show you now what I came up with.
Can I have more loudness on the fuckin' thing?
It's been a while since Ash has caught any Pondemon.
He's been going through an existential crisis that's made him look deep within his soul.
But all he's found there is the screaming void.
Life is a meaningless charade.
Our struggles have no value.
I don't understand you, Ash.
You're freaking me out.
You're freaking everybody out, you little shit.
There's such a truth that's been staring us in the face.
Life is no more than pain and suffering.
To understand the true nature of existence, we must first look into the abyss and embrace the demons we find there.
Makes sense, fuckstake.
I've been looking, and I think I've found enlightenment.
Use the bell to play the song.
I'll prove to you that life is wrong.
A week ago I stripped a man and tied him to a chair.
I put him in the darkness and left him screaming there.
I told my good friend Pikachu to check him now and then.
He followed my instructions and went down to the den.
He opened up the door a crack and watched as he would wriggle.
He really made me giggle.
I did!
And I was not employed by the idiots at Nickelodeon.
Now, I need someone else to pick one of these remaining categories and we can continue.
You, sir, my friend with the T-shirt.
Yes.
Which would you like?
The 27 points or the end of the world?
The 27 points.
The 27 points.
This is a kind of a manifesto, set of rules, if you like, if you don't, I don't care, for making experimental animation work.
But I think you will find that all these rules can be applied very effectively to your own lives.
One, no colors.
Two, no laughing.
Three, some shouting.
Now, some pain.
Five, make it darker.
Six, more shouting.
Seven, much darker.
Eight, more pain.
Nine, what does this piece mean?
What is it you're trying to say?
Ten, if you can answer nine, the piece has failed both ways.
13.
Don't use plasticine.
That's for Wallace and for Gromit.
13.
Does it smash taboos?
If it doesn't, what's the point?
15.
You may have a glass of wine, but you may not have a joint.
16.
What would your parents think?
If you care, then you have failed.
17.
Smash some big taboos.
You're not an artist and you've been jailed.
18, pick the bits you like and wave goodbye.
They have to go.
19, if you really have to have a message, make it NO!
20, smash your work to bits.
You're getting much too fond of it.
21, smash someone else's too.
Compare yours, it's shit.
22, keep all the bits.
Their value just increases.
23, almost forgot, use blood as well as pieces.
24, genitals.
They always say, no compromise.
25, strange music.
26, dead flies.
27, if a bird is trapped inside a room, it's frightened.
But if you fill that room with gas and sounds of gunfire, breaking glass and screaming and make it all dark, the bird will be a lot more frightened.
This section once again deals with my past.
When I was young, my parents died, and I was left to enter the adult world alone.
Unfortunately, when I got to adult world, it had gone out of business.
The proprietor, York, told me they had been raided a few weeks before, and the authorities had confiscated his copy of Razzle magazine, effectively destroying the porno industry in Vanskt.
Luckily, his other enterprise, Drinking World, was going from strength to strength.
In fact, they had recently served two customers in a single week.
So, uh, York was looking to take on extra staff.
And I was employed right there and then on the spot.
For the next 15 years, we ran Drinking World together.
Good times.
Every day I would get in, uh, put out the chair,
break the ice from the wee wee bucket and distill another potato into the rusty cans behind the bar.
This kind of thing.
Then I would more or less just wait until the end of the day when we could close up and I could have a lovely bit of rusty can booze.
The great thing about rusty can booze was you never quite sure what was in it.
what it would do to your brain.
Usually, you would suffer quite massive hallucinations, which I enjoyed.
I'd like to recreate for you now a typical evening after hours at York's bar.
Good night!
Thank you for coming to drinking worldwide!
Did we have a customer today?
No, Jock, no customer.
Just practicing.
Would you like a drink, Jock?
Yes!
Are you okay, Jock?
My foot is badly damaged.
Tie a slice of water around it.
At this point, you see, I will have a nice bit of rusty canned goose, and then watch some television.
I think we'll see Star Trek The Next Generation.
It's me and your... enemies.
We found new allies, new civilizations.
The bones may go, but no one has gone before.
There it is.
I can't see anything.
Magnify.
Section 285.
There it is, sir.
There it is.
Like a hole in space.
Captain.
Yes, Mr. Pitt.
I can see it.
Sensors show nothing out there.
Absolutely nothing.
Shows a damn ugly nothing.
Scaling frequencies.
Open.
This is Captain Jean-Luc Ducard of the USS Enterprise.
Hello, Star Trek people!
I am Pavel!
Oh, fast!
I need your help!
It's an emergency!
What is the nature of your emergency?
I don't want to talk to you.
I want to talk to the bounty man.
Who are you anyway?
I'm Dr. Pulaski, chief medical officer.
Oh yes, I remember you.
They threw you off after just one series for being too annoying.
And then you were in LA playing the bitchy cow.
She was annoying too.
That was a long time ago.
Yes, but I still remember.
Me and you watch a lot of television.
There's really nothing else to do here.
In fact, that's why I wanted to talk to you.
Oh, excuse me.
Had a lot of cabbage for lunch again today.
Listen, can you get me out of here?
I'm sorry, but under the circumstances, until we know what's going on, I'm imposing a full quarantine.
What?
For one fart?
Come on, everybody does it.
I know Beauty Man does.
I bet even the robot toilets won't go from time to time.
Please, I'm begging you.
Our options in a quarantined situation are extremely limited.
We are going to consider the possibilities.
I suggest you do the same.
What possibilities?
There are none for me!
I possibly might have boiled cabbage for supper!
Or I possibly might have fried cabbage!
Or I possibly might have frozen cabbage!
That is my possibilities!
I'm going crazy here!
And I think York is beginning to love me.
In a bad way.
Excuse me.
Let me put up the shield, sir.
wherever you are your actions are not welcome all right so the federation can't help because i have a little bit of wind that's really nice well see if your shields can deal with this
Oh, really?
And what are you going to do, Baldi?
We're going to fight you.
You know what?
Fuck you and your freaky friends.
I don't want your help anyway.
Next series, you will run into the most evil race in the galaxy, the Borg, and they will assimilate you, and then I will be laughing.
And I hope you laugh, long-horned man.
So the planet's atmospheres distorting our signal.
And you cling on men with a bigger shit on your forehead.
Oh, I'm so scared.
I don't think so.
You look like a girl who has fallen in some mud.
I take a shit on all of you.
But these kinds of hallucinations in those days were becoming more and more common for me.
First I assumed it was just a perfect combination of rusty can booze, Star Trek, and extreme boredom.
But then, even when I wasn't watching TV or drinking from the rusty cans, I began to see little white dots, later accompanied by shouting in my brain.
describe my symptoms to my friend Jörg who told me that I was probably suffering from DOBSON SHOUTING a condition that had affected many previous inhabitants and was probably the result of having stared too long into the abyss that and there was a goat that used to shit in the water supply well Jörg told me sadly that with my condition he would no longer be able to employ me at drinking water
In fact, he said the only job I could reasonably expect to hold down was in old school experimental animation.
But young, I said, how am I going to get a job in old school experimental animation here in France?
He said, well, that's true, Papel.
The old school experimental animation boom has passed here in France.
But you might try England.
And then he told me of a trip he had taken to England a few years before when he had heard of a program
designed to encourage expression and experimentation amongst young artists.
What's more, everyone accepted onto the program would receive an amazing prize.
Well, next morning I said goodbye to York, packed my bags, and left.
For the next few months I wandered from village to village, asking if anybody needed any little bits of experimental animation done.
Sometimes I would be lucky and I would receive a crust of bread, maybe a glass of wine, perhaps air miles.
Other times I would be forced to paddle for shelter underneath a bridge or down some airway, standing shoulder to shoulder around a fire next to other experimental animators, and sometimes Mickey rock.
In fact, it was Mickey that told me,
If you want to go to England, then Pavel, you must seek out the coach.
It's really very quick.
You just go straight to Victoria Station.
There's no need to wander from village to village.
He was right, and I found myself in London.
Well, I found it to be dark, rainy, dirty, and the people unfriendly and rude.
The very first thing I did was to submit some of my work to the program.
And then I waited excitedly for a reply.
Well, days turned to weeks, and then months, and still I heard nothing.
To make ends meet in that time, I took a job as a traffic warden.
But because of my rude and aggressive manner, I was promoted to chief of the traffic wardens.
Under my leadership, I revolutionized the parking penalty world.
It was my idea, for example, to hire in London mainly foreign people that can't speak very good English, so that, you know, arguments and misunderstandings could occur that much more easily.
So I came up with the phrase, I'm sorry, it's too late, it's in the system.
Even before there was an actual system.
I was being hailed as a kind of godfather of modern modernist, until one day, when I had almost forgotten about old school experimental animation,
I received the news I had been waiting for.
I had been accepted onto the program.
I would like to show you now a tape of the opening ceremony.
Now, into the gallery.
ah ah
Thank you for sending us your pictures.
I'm sorry that we can't return any to you, but we give a prize for all those we show.
Well, fuck you, Tony Hart!
I want my work back!
I don't give a shit about your prize!
We move on.
Return once again to the Random Genius Bag.
Read now categories picked at random from within.
The reason I can never get my work on TV Except for that one fucking time Touched by genius Bleeding between the lines
Now I pick this time someone from the balcony.
I think you, right there, lady with the pink kind of a thing.
What would you like?
Touched by genius.
Touched by genius!
Where would you like to be touched?
Shoulder?
They usually say boobies.
I'll touch you on your shoulder.
And your boobie, too!
Now, you, sir.
You, my friend.
Which would you like?
You can't see them from there, but...
bleeding between the lies of the reason I can never get my work on TV.
You can't be bothered to explain.
That's okay.
It's been a long weekend.
The reason I can never get my work on TV is explained by this short video I'll show to you now, which I was given by a friend of mine who works as a security guard, kind of night watchman person,
gave me this tape, and I must say, it certainly answers a lot of fun questions for me.
Hello?
Who's that?
Hey!
Who's that?
Mr. Grabout's big friend.
This year, let's make it much worse.
Now, I've got a new idea.
Yeah, it's a quiz show.
Two teens can say funny things that Jim calls a hoax.
Guys, good.
On day one, unless you come when you buy gym clothes, you're not in gym clothes.
Did you get that?
Yeah.
Don't let me cheat, okay?
Let me walk!
Look, I'm just making changes.
For example, the top outfit.
Yeah, let's think outside the car.
I mean, I think it's in the car between 200 or 300.
Yeah.
But, let's go to 1000.
OK, let's talk about the same thing.
We need some new plants.
I'd like to go to the football ground.
Yeah, it's getting in the way.
Go, go, go!
Bleeding Between the Lies the title of my poetry anthology which I would like to read to you in its entirety
Okay, we start with this poem.
It is about the recent unpleasantness in London.
I refer, of course, to the nice weather.
Seems to me, in this country, when the sun comes out, everything just gets fucked.
Except for me.
It's about sunshine and ladies.
Not everybody loves the sunshine.
For me, the sun means dread.
When the skies decide to brighten, ladies' tops begin to tighten, causing problems in my head.
Pretty ladies all around, they seem to come from nowhere.
When it's cold, they can't be found.
Now they cover all the ground.
And everywhere I look, I see a lovely, nearly nude lady.
I need to have them!
I need to have them.
I want that white one jogging in the sporty bra and the black one driving in the great big off-road car and the Chinese woman and the big fat dyke.
I want to visit them and park my little bike in their corridor and leave the door ajar.
Ah, Pavel passes by will hear them yell as they ride in never-ending ecstasy beneath my spell.
That's my wink.
Now all I have to do is get them to agree to join me for a very special sexy sunshine ride
They seem to find me scary.
My back is very hairy.
And when I sunbathe in the park, all the pretty ladies hide.
100 watt bulb.
I am not interested in a 100 watt bulb.
That's the kind of thing you'd expect to find in a banging nightclub.
on an airport runway to land a jumbo plane.
The 100 watts are very bright, it burns into your brain.
Me, I like the 15 watt.
That's all the watt you need.
You can see to roll a cigarette, just enough to take a pee.
Why they even make the 100 watt perplexes me.
What, you think the world's so wonderful you really have to see?
I can see your sexy little face.
It's much too bright for me.
Piece of meat!
I think it's chicken.
This next poem operates on a number of different levels.
Two.
It's called Brush.
It takes so long to wash black paint out from a great big brush, but it's important to be thorough.
This is not a job to rush.
You don't want any black blobs to nestle at the bristle root
Or one day later in your life, when you paint a shelf, or maybe a door, and you're not using black no more, those blobs will come back out again, and make you want to shoot yourself!
Because your shelf is smeared with grey!
Then you will regret the day you put that fucking brush there!
These two poems now are, I guess, I guess you could call them laugh poems.
I wrote them for a girl I knew.
She was a student at the college where I am a visiting lecturer.
She was in the ceramics department.
Her name was Mandy.
She loved to laugh, ha ha, and to sing
It was quite annoying, but there was something about her boobies that I wanted to see for myself, you know, nice and close up.
So for a while, I did my best to sound interested in her work, her problems, that kind of thing.
And very quickly, it paid off.
After only two weeks, she made a wonderful gesture.
She gave me a beautifully crafted
Anyway, things went really bad, I suppose, the night that she took me to see this film, The Terminal.
I don't know if you have seen this.
It's with Catherine Zeta-Jones, Tom Hanks, and blah, blah.
He is Tom Hanks, a man living in an airport because his country is being invaded.
There's a revolution.
It's this made-up country that he lives in, in Eastern Europe, and he's got this bullshit accent!
I found it offensive!
There was a big argument between me and Mandy.
Anyway, to try and make things up a little bit, I wrote her this short poem.
Mandy, you're almost always talking, but you seldom get much said.
I wish someone would
I moved out very soon after I gave her that poem.
And it was on the day she left that I wrote this final poem I'd like to take you now.
The day you left, I went into your knicker drawer once more.
Remember how upset you got to find me there before?
You got so very angry.
You shouted at Pavel.
These knickers are my private things.
They're not for you to smell.
Relationships need boundaries and places you can't go.
You can come inside my heart, Pavel, but not my knicker drawer.
Fuck you, then, I answered back.
Fetch some fucking locks.
I may have sniffed your undies, but you have stolen my socks.
I had six pairs a week ago, and now I just have two.
Yet your drawer is overflowing.
Does that seem strange to you?
all that remains now is for me to pick another category from the random genius packs these operate in much the same way as the random genius bag except the capsule
Oh, I should have eliminated that one!
Oh, that's not a category!
Words are crept around.
Okay.
Are you looking at them?
I don't think so.
A day in the life!
This is a kind of dramatic recreation of a typical day in the life of Pavel, how I get my inspiration for my pieces, that kind of thing.
And it begins, like most of my days begin, with me in this position.
I am one of those lucky people who tends to sleep very soundly, so I always wake up fully refreshed and invigorated.
No matter how hard the previous day has been, I think of every morning as a rainbow of possibilities.
After some me-time in my beautiful bathroom, I generally do a bit of exercise.
I love being in my body.
To me, it's a suit we hire for the wedding of life.
It's important to treat it with respect, or there may be an additional charge upon return.
I take a light breakfast, accompanied by what the British call a lovely cuppa, after which I love to listen to a bit of music to get me in the mood for the rest of the day.
With my head clear and my body glowing, I am ready for work.
In my profession, ideas can come from anywhere, so I love to throw open the window of my mind and just let the world blow in.
Oh mum.
Let me guess, you're being paid for doing fuck all again?
Yes.
Well it's an embarrassment all the shouting and pointing.
This is different mum.
You don't lie to me, I'm watching my television right now.
It's some fucking air advert.
Old York probably ought to make Kate Thornton and Natalie Hamilton and pretend to be blokes and talk about each other's vaginas.
Even yours mum.
You go.
I'll be back in a minute, I haven't finished with her yet.
I'll be back, I tell you I'll be back.
A flock of masked boobies flying above the ocean is a common sight in the Galapagos Islands, where boobies nest in large colonies.
Two other species, the blue-footed boobie and the red-footed boobie, are also found there.
These amusing boobies are known for their tameness
I'm not going to shake your hand just yet, my friend, but I will after this show.
Now begins the sixth of the twenty-eight stages of metageneration for Jessel, the Tri-Belge Buddha.
Ruler of Kozok and the Outer Lands, destroyer of the Nonsphere, and architect of the Treaty of Kwa-Tak-Er-Ski.
Emissaries from the Quad Kingdoms have traveled many clarves to witness the ceremony.
The Bija-Bel.
Wu Botox of Gerint VII.
The still-living brain of the mighty Keppel, today being carried by the symbiote Putt, his jewel-encrusted ceremonial stasis orb.
And here is Jessel, receiving a long line of drones from Digitox, the removable hard-drive plant.
As they approach him one by one, he inputs new data, and sets them up.
two of the elders of Digimons, processing and archiving the wishes of the Dry-Belge Wootenard with tremendous speed and efficiency.
And now it is the turn of Lord Ipsulot of Bok to plead, in his own tongue, for the mercy of Jessel.
Oh, Jessel, your power extends throughout the galaxy like a ruthless
worlds.
Please, don't do that.
The crowd seems to like the speech, but what will Jessel think?
The speech pleases him.
Lord Ipsilot will be spared, and the worlds you fought will not be smashed this young.
The people of Zantiar are jubilant, but over in a cold part of the square is the enclosure of the Dark Ones.
Former nemeses of Jessel, they stand defiant in their black uniform.
They know their time will come again, and not even the tri-Belgian Putinite can stop them.
Or can they?
more of a day off for me, I suppose.
Really.
The rest of the time, as I said, I work at the art school in London.
It's okay.
The ladies are nice.
Jesus!
The problem is I have to talk to them about their fucking work.
Oh, Pavel, my piece deals with the media.
and how the media makes me feel too fat.
And it's the fault of the media and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
Oh, that's nice.
Why don't you film yourself naked and then give me the tape?
I never really do.
In fact, a lot of the students seem frightened of me.
I don't know why.
This is one little guy.
He's a strange guy.
He's got a big birthmark.
but his name is Mark.
I don't really know what his parents were thinking about giving him that name, but the next time I see Mr. and Mrs. Blotch, I'm going to... Anyway, I'm sorry to say that a few weeks ago, Mark tried to take his own life.
He did not succeed.
It was not a surprise.
He's really not very good at anything at all, as I keep telling him.
But this week he was back at the college and I saw him in the corridor carrying a lot of paint, you know.
He always shakes a little bit when he sees me anyway.
And I went, hello, Mark!
He drops the paint and there's a big mess everywhere.
So to make a funny joke, you know, just a joke, I say, oh no, Mark!
Everyone is shouting at Pavel.
Oh, how could you be so cruel?
How could you be so insensitive?
This one girl, she said to me, oh, Pavel, you're so ignorant as well.
He did not slash his wrists.
He took an overdose of pills.
What?
I was not trying to be specific with the gesture.
This is the gesture for suicide, like this, right?
If I see Gordon Ramsay coming down the street, I go, like that!
So no one is talking to Pavel this week, and instead I must just sit and listen to the conversations of the fine students.
For example, I was in the canteen the other day, having my lunch, eating my cheese dehors, and drinking my sunny delight, and I was thinking to myself, oh, hmm, you know, these tastes, I like.
Orange shit from a man's house.
Next door to me, this student, we're having this conversation about TV themes.
Oh, can you remember, man, the TV theme from Chips?
Oh, that's a tough one.
Oh, what about the TV theme from Metal Mickey?
Oh, that's really hard.
How about the TV theme from The Waltons?
Oh, that's a bit easier, that one.
Yes, but can you remember the theme from Life?
Life is like a party you go to with your friends.
You get too drunk, your friends all leave, you're left alone, the party ends!
That's the fucking key from life, but I don't want to remember that one!
Okay, I'm being told my time is finished now and I must leave, make way for...
Dave Monkeybox has left the factory.
What the fuck?
Thank you for coming.