The Apology Conundrum: Episode 01, The Bat Cave

The Bat Cave:

Cool and Counter-Cool, Tall Tale IV

Or; The Zero Complex: Chapter 00000

Clan Leaders

‘Hailey, Hailey, Hailey;- you won’t believe it!’

‘What? What happened? Is this about last night? That Cave thingie?’

‘Yes! Holy shit! Turns out I’m cool again. I’ve been catapulted into fame!”

‘Wow! Fame?’

‘Yup! By our clan leader!’

‘Clan leader?’

‘Yes! You remember that woman to whom I confessed all my Instagram sins?’

‘Nope.’

‘Oh, come on! You remember. Goth-and-friendly-dog-combo photo-woman? “Uncertain Journey”?’

‘Ah, gotcha!’

[Pause]

‘… so she’s now a clan leader?’

‘She can hardly not be a clan leader with a hairdo that magically transforms in such spectacular ways as hers. See my logic?’

‘Erm. Well… [Pause] But does she want to be a clan leader?’

‘Look, I think we’re drifting from the point here. We’re supposed to be focusing on my fame and my nu-cool-street-cred.’

‘But didn’t Goths have tribes anyway? Not clans!’

‘Now, that’s quite enough of that sort of talk. Particularly when I was talking about me.’

‘Alright, go on.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t believe what happened last night! Our tribe leader said…’

[Interrupting] ‘Peril? Why are you so obsessed with tribe and clan leaders, anyway? Don’t you think you should add “Projection” to your list of narcissistic defence mechanisms in Episode I of "The Apology Conundrum"?’

‘Oh, very droll. And who do you think you are? She-Hulk, or something? Breaking between the panels?’

Sideways Interludicool:

Here’s another opportunity to read what happened at Wraith so you can understand what the fuck is going on in the next bit.

Remember, you might boost Uncertain Journey’s ratings back to the Silver trophy position, if she overtakes the Allen TG and Kaori narrative-automobile.

Read it here:

https://www.nocturnal-picaro.com/post/episode-5-pests-from-individuals-eccentrics-weirdos-monsters-pests-creeps-and-alfreds

Get On With It

So, I’m at The Bat Cave party at The Retro Bar.

I’ve arrived early and been graced with a special Bat Cave limited-edition pin-badge which I can’t wear on my latex suit.

I tell you, I bet Hamish MacDonald was impressed with me.

He was to deliver, a couple of months later, a whole lecture about limited edition post-punk pin-badges at The Bat Cave Exhibition at The Museum of Youth Culture, where I received another Bat Cave limited-edition pin-badge!

No.

No.

You can’t have my spare Bat Cave limited-edition pin-badge.

Who do you think you are?

The sheer level of entitlement these days!

That was the night I rescued Porl MacHale from walking the wrong way.

It was curious, as I was to find out later from Nicole, I happened to be walking the wrong way too.

Anyway, back to The Bat Cave January party:

It’s about an hour or so in, and my feet are itching for a rave.

I’m having polite chit-chat about the coffin-decor with pals Nicole, Ruthy, and JeanieJean, the photographer, when I suddenly notice Uncertain Journey about two metres away.

Well, naturally, my social-anxiety-rev-counter has accelerated so far into the red-zone it’s causing electromagnetic wave interference to nearby mobile devices, particularly to anyone trying to leave random comments on a stranger’s Insta page.

Do I risk making an apology for being a serial conversational apology-pest at Wraith and, in so doing, ruin her night at The Bat Cave too?

But, I’m only two metres away and, if she has read my confession about Wraith and I ignore her, then that would also be a bit rude!

I’m caught between the lesser of two rudes!

It’s a gamble.

This dilemma would have ‘The Dice Man’ throwing his dice to the dogs. (Friendly Goth-loving-dogs, of course, but let that side-issue rest.)

Well, I’ve never gone in for social-snubbery, so fate appears to have dictated that an apology is in order!

If this apology doesn’t work, it’s all ok, they’ve got a well-stocked bar.

I’ll go really ‘retro’ and order a pint of hemlock!

Cheers, Socrates, I'll have one on you!

Ok, Peril, have courage:

I’m less frightening tonight because I’m not wearing a weird latex-face-mask! Mind you, that’s no guarantee she might not find my real face more terrifying than the creature from the black lagoon. Now, I can’t outface my own face, unless I talk to her and look sideways, but that might give her the impression I’m trying to rotate my head like the girl in The Exorcist.

Ok, mr peril, try to be normal, whatever that fucking means.

‘Oh, hello, hello, hello, hello! I’m soooooo sorry…’

...

My Cult Following

Now, while my social anxiety levels are attempting to rotate my head around 180 degrees, there’s another part of me that’s feeling more calm and grounded tonight.

Jonny Slut’s been quick to tease me only 10 minutes after arrival:

‘Oh, hello, Peeeeeeeeril!’ he says with mischievous sneer.

‘Oh, hey, hey, hey, Jonny! Didn’t recognise you in that Christmas jumper!’ I retort.

Anyway:

‘Oh, hello, hello, hello, hello! I’m soooooo sorry about being a nuisance at Wraith Club. I didn’t mean to ruin your evening. So sorry.’

‘Erm. Well, I didn’t know you were trying to start a conversation. I was dancing!’

Now, you’ve got to admit, Uncertain Journey’s got a point here.

Quite a big point, in fact.

At Wraith, I’ve become so immersed in applying linguistic theories of politeness to help me negotiate the slippery terrain of social encounters, it’s allowed me to interpret every single detail in the whole club – apart from the obvious.

Apart from what is in front of my very nose!

Well, that explains matters quite clearly.

It’s so obvious, I’m oblivious!

‘I read your blog.’

‘No way! Really?’

I’m genuinely surprised.

My blogs are usually greeted with a radio silence that can only be rivalled by the whistling of post-apocalyptic winds after a thermo-nuclear disaster.

‘Yes. Well, you did tag me!’

‘But that’s no guarantee you actually read it! People are busy and whatnot!’

‘Yes, I read it aloud at work.’

‘At work?’

Now, I am intrigued.

‘Yes, read it out to my colleagues at work.’

Now, this is getting better. Uncertain Journey’s given me a free broadcast!

‘At work? What do you do?’

‘I’m an accountant.’

Woah! This is information overload right here.

I’m trying to process this data from all angles.

This is more surprising than the time I ran a large department with brighter hair than Ronald McDonald.

I’m not only trying to cope with the cognitive dissonance that all accountants dress like T.S. Eliot yet Uncertain Journey’s got backcombed blue-hair, but I’m also trying to imagine her surrounded by financial files and reading my blog to an audience of keen-listening accountants;- all situated in the formality of a diligently hard-working office.

I knew I had a cult following!

I knew it!

In Session

What’s even weirder is that my brain’s going audio! I’m trying to imagine hearing Uncertain Journey reading, in her voice, the words of my persona-narrator describing meeting her!

Now this is confusing!

And it’s this that gives me the idea that I should record my blogs as podcasts because people don’t read nowadays.

Don’t read anything.

Not a word.

They look, and occasionally listen.

There are strict time-spans restricting both, so my rambling arsehole is totally fucked.

But here she is, reading. Reading aloud! The spoken voice. A performance!

Maybe we could record a tale as a team?

I know, maybe she could read my words and I could read hers?

That makes sense!

I like it!

A rare recording session!

Rarer than Andrew Eldritch being happy with a recording session! 1

His cult status has got nothing on mine!

I bet he’s never had the benefit of his sorry arse being broadcast in an accountancy office. 2

…

But this whole 'cult following' business rather proves a highly-refined self-deluded theory I’ve been nurturing!

My Insta following might have reached beyond the heady-heights of 150 fans, but it’s quality that you need, not quantity!

Quality!

People of discernment, darling.

Of perspicacity.

Of sophistication.

These people are in the know!

They’re the in-with-the-in crowd.

They’re the cream.

They have taste.

I don’t want any Tom, Dick, Desmond or Desdemona following me!

Oh, no!

If I could just reduce those 150 fans down to a hardcore 49 by September, I’ll really go down in history as a cult figure.

The Foolish Footnotes:

1 I have it on very good authority from my pal David M. Allen, the producer of First and Last and Always (as well as numerous albums by The Cure (1984-1992)), that Mr Eldritch was prone to secretly burning the tapes from the previous day’s recording session overnight, if he wasn’t happy with them, which was often, and poor Dave would check into work each morning only to find his hard work undone and looking a bit gloopy. Poor Dave! He must have been caught between a cock and a hard place! [Return]

2 Unless, of course, Uncertain Journey has a regular DJ slot on Fridays when she spins a few Gothic discs for her colleagues. Maybe this blog-reading incident formed a part of her regular radio show? Who knows? Actually, I do have a very serious accountancy problem I need Uncertain Journey and her team to solve. It pertains to how many books reside in my personal library. You might think that's a straightforward matter. The work of a moment. Oh no! The sheer bravado of such an assumption! Anyway, I think we should deal with this particular problem in a future opening episode of 'The Apology Conundrum'! Once it's written, I'll put a link to it here! [Return]