The Sea of Time Prophecies of Catesby, stills and Nash / 31 January 2011
Picture this: it's an ordinary Monday afternoon; the time could be 16:05,and I could be John Johnson
(aka Guy Fawkes) undiscovered.
But don't be mistaken - I'm no terrorist bent on murder and mayhem.
Mine is a kind bomb; more 37 chapters than barrels (one for luck you see!) Each strategically
positioned right under all those bloody stupid things you
believe and are anchored to - you masturbankers!
I'm sorry, but you need to be told. It's just that a storm comes this way - a very omenous storm, black-bearding the horizon.
We really must take heed and make haste:
it's time to weigh anchor, or your ships will surely be
dashed on this pretty reef, and be sunk without trace.
I must warn you most urgently to stop resting on your laurels.
For you should know that there's been a conspiritor in our midst for an ocean of time. He/she has been plotting against us; not lurking in our cellars, but in our top storeys.
So we need to wake up and get our ships in shape - sniff this out - unmask and bring to trial the treason of reason within...
wither me shimbers, me tarties!
Captain Capstan Kiddgloves
Many people claim to be clever and adventurous. But, instead of charting new territory as you'd expect, they navigate their lives using hand-me-down or outdated maps.
Scared to set sail for the edge of the world, they often discover, too late, that always knowing where you are going is worse than being lost...
Quiver me Finnbars, me smarties!
Sir Pritchard Drawstrings.