* 200 articles. Two years. Whelk. The best of Upsideclown. Might be reprinted.

Preparation X

24 March 2003
George is doing the final checks


Boots: black leather, knee high - need polishing.

Socks: black, knee-high - ready.

Trousers: black - to be collected from the dry cleaner's tomorrow.

Shirt: white, linen - needs ironing.

Jacket: black- ready.

Earrings: Mexican silver stylised crosses - ready.

Glasses: rectangular - need a wipe.

I am tidy, serious, somber. My eyesight has deteriorated from all of the books that I've read and all of the time spent huddled at a computer screen - academic! The black and white of the text of the dissertation that I'll write and bring fame to your esteemed department with reflects in the clothes I wear; I am the text, I am the work. Leather boots, linen shirt - I recognise quality, I acknowledge the world-renowned excellence of your faculty. I am no cheap date. Even though the subject matter is unconventional, see from the crosses on my lobes that I am aware of a) a higher spiritual plane than this earth b) the seriousness of life in comparison to the strange subject and nature of the research. I can cope with poverty and intellectual abuse.

Foundation: moisturising, smooth cream - ready.

Eyeshadow: bronze, pale gold - ready.

Eyeliner: brown - needs sharpening.

Mascara: dark brown - ready.

Lipliner: flesh - needs sharpening.

Lip gloss: black honey - ready.

Teeth: off-white, slightly chipped and crooked - need cleaning.

Hair: ginger, layered bob - needs straightening.

Body: short, curvy - needs cleaning.

I am demure, yet polished. Attractive but studious. My beauty preparations will not distract from my work, but I will be more than presentable at conferences, giving papers etc. I am sleek and efficient.



Breathing with the stomach, not just the chest.

Prioritising my life.

Fully realising that desire is only created when the object in question has the potential to be withheld; fully realising the implications of this on my life and career.

I am a "young pup".

I am fucking bright.

This is how I will contact and conduct interviews with the subject of my research.

This is why I, whilst acknowledging the controversial and possibly unsavoury nature of my work, know it to be important and relevant.

This is the previous research experience which I hold.

This is why I believe that I will be able to do this research, even though it varies in subject from that of my dissertation.

I am aware that it is unusual and not previously performed academically, but look! - several published articles in academic journals stating that more work needs to be done in this area!

This is why, despite being female, I will not be lessened, offended or belittled by this work (though to imply my distaste at this question, my sexuality, the existence of material in this area targeted exclusively at homosexuals?)

This is why I am great and my proposals kick ass. This is why I chose this department. This is why you want and need me.

Further Inside (and not be retrieved)

For fuck's fucking sake. I've spent a fucking year working on this; I got approval from one of your highest members of faculty a year ago! The same member of faculty who said ze'll supervise me! The same member of faculty who thought that this was a really great idea (together with another professor of subject x)!

And having been all but assured by this professor, by the admissions administrator, that I was "in-house", not requiring an interview - what the fuck is this? Don't you think that I'll be able to do it? Are you embarrassed about the subject, that it's not "what the department is about"? Jesus, don't you think that maybe you should have mentioned this twelve months ago so that I could have changed the proposal?

Maybe you don't think I can do it. Two to three years of professional experience, and you dare to doubt my fucking abilities? I've been offered similar places at Oxford, Cambridge, Leeds, York and Manchester - you dare to think, as a concrete Sixties throwback with a tiny library that you can compete? You should be fucking honoured that I'm applying to you. I rock. I have a memory like a computer. I've been published. I'm already employed by you as a researcher!


But if you don't want me, then I have my wide open space and my riches of the universe. I have an antipodean passport. I have graduate medicine training schemes (and God know's that that's looking attractive anyway). I have all of these anyway, but after (xx/xx/2003) they'll stop being back-up and start being essential.


Ready as I'll ever be.


This is the fucking archive

Current clown:

18 December 2003. George writes: This List

Most recent ten:

15 December 2003. Jamie writes: Seven Songs
11 December 2003. Dan writes: Spinning Jenny
8 December 2003. Victor writes: Rock Opera
4 December 2003. Matt writes: The Mirrored Spheres of Patagonia
1 December 2003. George writes: Charm
27 November 2003. James writes: On Boxing
24 November 2003. Jamie writes: El Matador del Amor; Or, the Man who Killed Love
20 November 2003. Dan writes: Rights Management
17 November 2003. Victor writes: Walking on Yellow
13 November 2003. Matt writes: Disintermediation
(And alas we lost Neil, who last wrote Cockfosters)

Also by this clown:

1 December 2003. George writes: Charm
10 November 2003. George writes: Dead beat
20 October 2003. George writes: Shortening
29 September 2003. George writes: Manhattanites are Cleavage-Starved
11 September 2003. George writes: How to Bring Us in Line With the Future
18 August 2003. George writes: Slashtastic
28 July 2003. George writes: Underground Independent Small Press Comic Fight Club
7 July 2003. George writes: Careering
16 June 2003. George writes: Choose your own adventure
26 May 2003. George writes: Revelations
8 May 2003. George writes: Picture Perfect
14 April 2003. George writes: MetaPirate
24 March 2003. George writes: Preparation X
3 March 2003. George writes: F of x
13 February 2003. George writes: Three is the magic number
23 January 2003. George writes: Recorded Delivery
30 December 2002. George writes: Meat Bingo or Death
12 December 2002. George writes: Royal Inquisitor
21 November 2002. George writes: This Clown is Cancelled
28 October 2002. George writes: Shopping with God
3 October 2002. George writes: SaferSpoony
16 September 2002. George writes: Supercalanthropomorphicexpealidocious
26 August 2002. George writes: The deformed animal menagerie
5 August 2002. George writes: Plaice that Funky Music, Whitebait
15 July 2002. George writes: Safe as Houses
24 June 2002. George writes: Two Lions (DB/DS)
30 May 2002. George writes: Series 8
9 May 2002. George writes: Market Stall
11 April 2002. George writes: I, the Enlargened, Crunchy Product
18 March 2002. George writes: Cakexterminator
21 February 2002. George writes: Fiction Suit
28 January 2002. George writes: Spunk Gunk
31 December 2001. George writes: Fairytale of New Pork
10 December 2001. George writes: Circular
15 November 2001. George writes: A Man With No Ass Is No Man At All
22 October 2001. George writes: One Night in Heaven
27 September 2001. George writes: Uncut
3 September 2001. George writes: Porn Pants
9 August 2001. George writes: Names of the Roses
19 July 2001. George writes: No Fun Here
21 June 2001. George writes: All Your Elections are Belong to Us
28 May 2001. George writes: Pierced as Fuck
3 May 2001. George writes: My Lovely Horse
9 April 2001. George writes: Eight Hundred and Forty-Three
12 March 2001. George writes: Kill 'Em All
19 February 2001. George writes: Formal
25 January 2001. George writes: Sticks and stones
11 January 2001. George writes: A Thought on Morality
11 December 2000. George writes: You can't put that into a soufflé
13 November 2000. George writes: Lyrical Genius
19 October 2000. George writes: Wet wet wet wet wet
25 September 2000. George writes: Built on an Indian burial ground
31 August 2000. George writes: This Way
31 July 2000. George writes: Runt of the Litter

Let meeeeeee entertain you

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Material is (c) respective authors. For everything else, there's

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