Reflecting Upon The Dandy Lion

Sitting stoned staring blankly at yet another shrine I have put together for dead friends. This one is dedicated to Sebastian Horsley. He wasn't everybody's cup of tea, nor would he have wanted to be. Even at his very worst he was far more refreshing to behold than a bag of dried leaves in hot water. One afternoon he crept up the stairs in Meard Street Soho, knocked on my door and gave me this lion's skull as it did not interest him.

 

He prefered humans

 

A Minor Alteration (Brutal Tailoring in Andaluz)

It doesn't happen too often thankfully, given my propensity for frequenting bars of notoriety, that I get into an unresolvable disagreement with a fellow fool. Thus it was last Saturday that a gentlemanly disagreement compelled me to turn a chair over a chap of minimimilist logic. He left quickly.

I felt badly afterwards but felt much worse when a fellow patron of the bar pointed out the poorly executed alteration the fleeing fuck-wit had made to my jacket. I was however relieved that I managed retain some dignity; my silk pocket square stayed in place during the entire cuffufle.



I usually remove my hat before embarkation, as this usually signals to any fellow wrangler of my unhappy intentions, i.e. To instill a firm understanding of “The Gooobye Look.” He shall be hearing from my Tailor!