Ah fuck it. Everyone needs a break now and again but this is ridiculous.
It’s time to come back and spread ridicule. Time to vent spleen. Time to poke hornet nests again.
Those long months in the wilderness were worth it for the soul-cleansing they wrought but they took their toll. Let me tell you, a diet of locusts and wild honey isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Your jaw would be sore from crunching the fucking grasshoppers and you’d be all night picking the jaggedy little legs out of your teeth. As for the honey, your hands would be like a football from all the stings, you’d be in mortal fear of fighting yet another bear and besides, wild honey isn’t like the nice clear stuff you buy in the shops. Wild honey has all sorts of dirty shite mixed into it.
Let me also point out that the wilderness isn’t great for washing facilities. There isn’t much l’Oreal out there among the sand dunes and the wild scrub nor much of anything else either.
No indeed. ‘Tis a gaunt and unshaven Bock that trudges back into your life. A hollow-cheeked creature with wild, sunken eyes and a thousand-cubit stare, clutching at your collar with a claw-like grasp.
By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, you might well demand, now wherefore stopp’st thou me?
Well, that will become apparent as time uncurls itself from a painful lotus position but for the present, let me say simply this.
‘Tis a new Bock that waves this gnarled old walking staff at thee. A new Bock and a changed one. A Bock with many faces and many voices.
A Bock whose name is Legion.