The Inadvertent Twin

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

''This is a book that breathes insidiously in the reader's mind long after the back cover is folded over... It facilitates our self-realisation, all the while tightening the noose of inevitable mutual-obliteration about our ethnically-defined necks.'' - Carol Ballantine

Friday, January 23, 2004

Eoin, freshly showered, shaved and unshackled following his release from prison, is sitting in the potting shed with some crayons, a ream of computer paper (the old fashion sort with the green stripey lines and perforations) and a dictionary. With these tools, he tells me he is composing his statement, for immediate release to the press once he has finished colouring in, of his version of the events of last weekend. These, it goes without saying, shall be published here immediately the press embargo is lifted.

posted by Shazzle 8:44 p.m.
. . .

Wednesday, January 21, 2004

Word didn’t reach Dublin for a number of hours, due to confusion about the international dialling code for Ireland and a mix up with our event and the one next door to us, which was a talk about how lizards are the secret rules of the earth. Having been passed the message “Eoin gone mad. Hillman in hospital. Hurry”, the anti-lizard men had taken it as a coded warning that the lizards were on to them, and tried to poison-gas the entire hotel complex. By the time we heard, it was Sunday afternoon.

We have organised bail – once more – and Eoin has been returned to my care. Capron will remain in hospital for another few days while they treat him for frostbite due to having part of an ice sculpture forcibly inserted into… well, full details are not necessary here. The poor man apparently intends to sue Eoin for all he is worth – which probably isn’t as much as he expects, what with all the legal fees – and so the release of the book is being held off until matters die down. Our publicist has also been admitted to hospital, this time with a complete nervous breakdown. Apparently not all publicity is good publicity.

posted by Shazzle 8:43 p.m.
. . .

Tuesday, January 20, 2004

What happened next has been collected from witness statements graciously provided to me by a lovely young policeboy in exchange for an autographed copy of The Inadvertent Twin.

Most witness reports agree that Eoin began to climb up the lattice that was lining each wall at about 10.05pm, knocking off the fake ivy and lily flowers adorning each trellis. He began to mutter agitatedly, and as he was miked up in preparation for the reading of our prepared joint statement, this was picked up by the PA system and relayed around the room. “For rulers are not a terror to good works, but to the evil,” he said, pausing momentarily to regain his balance. “Wilt thou then not be afraid of the power?” He turned around, and noticing that every eye in the room was trained on him, began to shout. “Do that which is good, and thou shalt have praise of the same: For he is the minister of God to thee for good,” he yelled, stabbing his finger towards indiscriminate people around the room.

At this moment, Brian Capron (who is the actor unlucky enough to play Richard Hillman) had a coughing fit, as a piece of toast had slipped down the wrong way. This had the unfortunate effect of drawing Eoin’s attention directly upon him. “But if thou do that which is evil, be afraid,” Eoin continued, now addressing poor Capron directly, “for he beareth not the sword in vain: for HE IS THE MINISTER OF GOD, A REVENGER TO EXECUTE WRATE UPON HIM THAT DOETH EVIL!” (Romans 13:3-4)

With that, he fell from the lattice and landed on Capron. There was a minor struggle, but Eoin seemed to come out on top, particularly after he began using one of the swan’s heads as his weapon of choice. A number of other cast members tried to break up the skirmish, and Steven Arnold (who plays widower Ashley Peacock) got a black eye for his trouble. In the end, it was Tracy Shaw, ironically Hillman’s on-screen victim, who managed to separate the two by declaring to Eoin that she had come back from the dead for revenge, and demanding that Eoin let her “take care of the mother lover”. Eoin, suitably impressed, allowed the police to drag him off in hand cuffs. The night, it goes without saying, was ruined.

posted by Shazzle 8:43 p.m.
. . .

Monday, January 19, 2004

It all began so well. Having passed out under the weight of his various prescription drugs all dissolved into a glass of Sunny Delight, Eoin was shipped off to Dublin to wake up half an hour after the event had begun. With guests still arriving, I’m told he seemed delighted to stand at the door taking hats and coats and being mistaken for a butler, until our publicists noticed him straining under the weight of so much fur, and brought him for the rounds to speak to journalists, politicians, and some people from Open House. He was apparently singing the theme tune to the Littlest Hobo most of the time and answered every question by picking quotes at random from a bible. When asked by Ian Dempsey where he got his crazy ideas from, Eoin answered “And surely your blood of your lives will I require; at the hand of every beast will I require it, and at the hand of man; at the hand of every man's brother will I require the life of man. Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed: for in the image of God made he man.” (Genesis 9:5-6) Dempsey seemed happy with this answer.

I myself fared better in London – now that everything had been straightened up, there seemed little to concern myself with. I amused myself by frequently drinking out of the glass of the person beside me, occasionally using a straw when unable to wrestle it from their hands. I was pleased to be told that some of the cast of Coronation Street had taken up our invitation. I wasn’t able to distinguish them from any of the other “celebrities” present on the night, being more accustomed to serious artistic endeavors like programmes with Melvyn Bragg and Simon Schama.

Having tricked Eoin into eating a burger lined with a fast acting anaesthetic, he was shipped off to Dublin airport and flew in our private jet to London. I was collected as he landed, and had a brief glimpse of him lying on the stretcher, his thumb in his mouth and clutching his Fame Academy CD.

It was only when he woke up, slightly confused and disorientated, that he must have began to think someone was trying to drug him. Having quietly searched what he thought was the same room for the people that he had been speaking to earlier in the night, and unable to find anyone but our twittering publicist (who herself was slightly confused at this point, what with the cocaine), he began to form a theory about what was happening – he decided that, having killed Maxine Peacock with the mere tap of a crow bar, Richard Hillman was obviously coming after him next.

posted by Shazzle 8:41 p.m.
. . .

HOME

ARCHIVE

. . .