Under The Moon Of Song

UNDER THE MOON OF SONG

BY

BARRY VAN-ASTEN

In attempting to split the atom (a minor miracle of scientific illuminism that had escaped the attentions of our dashing, well-bred anti-hero and young man about town) Abelard Fisher-Potts, caused the collision between a fine sea trout and a handsome young herring upon his kitchen table. The experiment, of which was quite unremarkable except for the copious and ‘mysterious’ volume of ‘fish-paste’ that appeared after each experiment, was yet another example of ‘the thin veil drawn between man and god’ as he would say; and how ‘science, correctly wielded, can unlock any so called miracle of nature’, yet alas, no atoms were rent asunder in the pulping of these fish; but let us not forget those brave creatures of the sea who have forged a long line of martyrs who have sacrificed their sweet souls to the name of Science!
After several weeks (and to date, the lives of 28917 heroic gilled warriors) Abelard declared the task futile and even went as far as to say that there was no such thing as the atom, it had all been dreamt up as some dreadful hoax, concocted no doubt by some long-haired barbarian with an Einstein complex and a hatful of neurosis to boot! And so Abelard washed his hands of science, saying ‘its pursuit is pure folly, and what’s the good of it anyway! – There is only one true philosophy where the finger of the Almighty rests, and that is medicine! – It is life itself and I shall dedicate my life to the fundamental and worthy art and science of medicine!’ And so he did.
We must now skip dear reader through several years of his study to a point in the future; or a point in the past, depending on time – but however, what happened, happened sometime after the inauguration of his birth and the dreadful anti-climax of his death – in fact, it was six years into his accepting a position of junior physician at some desperate and dreary hospital. And thus it was found and digested and talked about and generally nudged and winked all along the corridors that a small column in a small newspaper with a small readership in a small provincial town somewhere in the North of England that a man had attempted to re-create the minotaur legend by crossing the genes of a donkey with that of a man – the donkey’s name: Mary; the man’s name: Abelard Fisher-Potts!
The case went to the Medical Council where Abelard was stripped of his awards and struck-off for gross misbehaviour and medical misconduct. But he managed to escape a prison sentence by accepting psychiatric help. And during his psychiatric sessions it followed that since his birth Abelard had a strange and varied fascination for inter-human-species relations! In fact, he was very ‘enthusiastic’ on the subject. It was prized out of the good doctors lips that at the age of eight he was infatuated by a cow named Matilda and also a pig named Jemima on his parent’s farm in Sussex. It was a constant concern for his poor mother who frowned upon such things, being staunchly Catholic and opposed to the idea of ‘unprotected lust’ as she called it. It also came to pass that the young Abelard found his father one day pleasuring him self in the cowshed whilst milking Matilda. The jealous rage in Abelard boiled and seethed and in his despair he made ‘angry love to Jemima’ on the kitchen table, in front of his young sister Arabella, who to this day refuses to eat pork!
Matilda and Jemima were later slaughtered by demand of the Local Council as they were a ‘hazard to all young farmers in the district, so easily charmed by bovine bewitchment and swine lust!’ Abelard’s father, Mr Jonas Fisher-Potts, ashamed of his weird passions, took his own life and drowned in the fish pond. His mother, Albertina, saught solaces in the local nunnery after Jonas’ death and became Sister Albertina!
And so the young Abelard was left to the hands of his Uncle Jeremiah – a cruel man and a vicious lover! It was his Uncle who instilled in young Abelard a hatred for the British Monarchy; Catholicism and its fraudulent Pope; and the United States of America! He considered all three to be perpetrators against the Human Will, Spirit and Freedom of Thought and Action – the very apex of existence! So Jeremiah can be seen as a forward thinking man for his time! He was also a man of means and young Abelard was sent to Malvern to be educated as a gentleman. It was at Malvern that Abelard mastered the ‘nine graces’ taught at the school to make ‘hearty men of boys’! –

1. How to cheat, sneak and steal.
2. How to lie, snitch, and put the boot in proper to being a gentleman.
3. How to take advantage of the Law to increase one’s wealth and stature.
4. How to perform the gracious art of fellatio.
5. How to employ the subtle and sublime joy of anal intercourse.
6. How to masturbate for pleasure and profit.
7. How to smoke, drink, swear and indulge in drugs of all varieties.
8. How to bully those beneath one and be servile to those above one.
9. How and when to turn a blind eye and accept financial rewards for doing so.

Excelling in his studies he went up to Oxford where he took to wearing nuns’ vestments and smoking a pipe in his rooms; he also began to write poetry, unfortunately only one volume of his verse was published for he failed as a poet much as he failed as a human being. The volume – ‘Love lips for a lap dog’ quickly sank into obscurity; its subject matter was considered ‘vile and disturbing’, though in recent times it has been sought out with a new appraisal or ‘renaissance’ of his work. In his preface to the poems he describes his ‘dark, urgent calling, as if to defy nature herself and caress the depths of Hell’s abandoned carcase – to live it and love it; to breed from it and eat it!’ In his introductory poem, an autobiographical sketch, titled ‘The Whirlpool’ we find the transsexual Abelard torn between human and animal lust:

A young man of the woods fell in love, (what a bore)
With the clergyman’s daughter who lived next door;
He taught her rude songs and rude words by the score;
He taught her to dress like a slut and a whore!

But her father, the vicar, too oft’ spared the rod
As he dreamt of church things, cream cakes and God!
In his best pulpit pose: a face white as cooked cod!
To next door did he plod the ecumenical sod!

So he knocked on the door at two minutes to three,
Shouting ‘Sir, desist from your devilry…
You have shamed a House of God with your mockery!
Repent! There is life after sin in Christianity!’

And later that night the young man was bold
When for the vicar’s daughter his passions ran cold –
In the dim light of the bedroom, he looked ninety years old,
But he had things to say that had to be told!

‘My dear,’ said the young man, ‘I have to confess
That sometimes I take to wearing a dress!
The whole nine yards! Bra and pants, nothing less!
High heels and stockings – I’m just strange I guess!

A pale pink camisole, a ribbed basque in plum;
An apple blossom chemise that’s tight as a drum!
I’ve even shaved my legs, no less, and waxed my chest and bum:
Don’t you think I look a little like your dear departed mum?’

And the vicar’s daughter fumed with anger rising from the bed:
She screamed and she spat and she scratched at his head!
She called him a thousand things and wished the young man dead!
She stormed out like a whirlwind and nothing more was said!

And so it came to pass the once lovely vicar’s daughter
Grew tired of all the young man’s songs and the rude words he had taught her;
Her spirit sank, her heart broke, brain-washed on Holy Water:
And here she was once more a lamb being led to Christian slaughter!

And so the young man sat in French knickers on his oriental mat
Smoothing down his stockings, he said ‘that’s the end of that!’
While making his advances towards the fireside cat,
For on women it seemed his eccentric lusts ran tired and flat!

It was at Oxford that young Abelard proclaimed his pampered yet peculiar passions to be a positive paradise of pleasantry due to his prepossessing proclivity that pointed towards the paunchy and plump physique of a polite and pretty but pugnacious prized pig named Desmond! A prime porker indeed! Much to the chagrin of his young fag named ‘Mary’ who kept his bed warm! And it was also at Oxford that he formed a National Socialist Society which extolled the virtues of Eva Braun, whilst wearing ladies silk pyjamas and a matching ‘swastika bra and pant ensemble’. It was for this reason that Abelard was expelled from Oxford!
And so after eighteen months of therapy at the Happy Home for Lunatics and the Weak Minded in Kent, Abelard was deemed well enough to be released once more into the community. Once free of the straight-jacket regime Abelard changed his name to Abraham Phipps and studied veterinary science. After passing his exams he opened his own practice in the wilds of Maida Vale in London. But it wasn’t long before he was up to his old tricks and he was discovered ‘embracing a gold fish behind closed doors!’ There followed another name change to Abel Philpot and he turned to medicine once more and did ‘doctoring in his spare time’. Having exhausted all forms of human sexuality, where else but to the animal kingdom could he go to next?
He met an old ‘sod of the sea’ by the name of ‘Salty Walter’ who set about helping the young man’s strange affections. His name was changed once more to (Doctor) Ahab Philips.* Walter taught him to enjoy all things ‘salt water’ especially the art of fishing – but the good doctor still found it difficult not to propel the fish at great speed towards each other in the attempt of causing atoms to split, the which may or may not exist! The struggle continues!

May his gentle hand not rest from the toil of the pen upon the page! Amen!

Rev. Daniel Winterbottom-Lees.

Further reading:

‘Moon Song – the unpublished novel of Abelard Fisher-Potts’ by James Mogworthy.
‘The Science of my Life’, the unfinished autobiography of Ahab Philips.








* It was in the winter of the year two-thousand-and-six that a certain Dr Philips met a certain Laird of Glencairn and His good Lady wife, living in Maida Vale. The good Doctor treated Her good Ladyship for certain ailments and Her Ladyship, finding the Doctor lacking in a certain respect and manner, forbade him entrance into the home of the Laird and Lady and any further treatment or contact, and thus the Doctor was banished, into the arms of a certain African Priest named Arbar Nat, who practiced a certain ‘primitive magic’ against the Laird and His good Lady wife. A Hostile Current of Will was set in motion and thus swiftly despatched to the said African’s quarters to which no more has been heard nor seen of him – and thus the saga ended there!