Heart of a Punk Soul of a Rasta

1st May 2011 - The Long Walk to Death

Greetings & Welcome! Yes it's time. Time to write the longest suicide note in the history of the Music based Fanzine and to finally take the long walk to death. After little thought and no consideration whatsoever I have decided to end my life on Saturday the 4th June 2011. Obviously some people might think that suicide is a rather blunt instrument to use to kill off a half arsed publication like this, some might say "why don't you just stop writing the unremitting shitola you tosser and give us all a break!" But the truth is I can't stop, so suicide "total destruction" is the only solution.

Now I'm aware that suicide is not in fact painless and also not the subject for humour, whether it be gallows humour or the other sort. So even though I have no intention of backing out of my fate I must remind you that I am a fictional character and only members of my fictional family will be affected by my less than fictional suicide. My good friend and Fanzine cohort John Bigot has decided not to enter into a suicide pact with me but has kindly volunteered to join me on the day to, as he says "forcibly assist, should it be necessary". Also as I mark of the little respect he has for me John has promised not to continue the Fanzine in my absence - let the devil feast on his entrails should he renege on this promise.

So during the course of May to mark my countdown to death I intend to write something for the Fanzine on a daily basis. Obviously, if you stumble across the Fanzine after June 4th 2011 then please be aware that I am now quite incontrovertibly dead, I've gone next door, I'm as the mutton - sleeping the big sleep, gone upstairs; I'm dearly departed and with the fishes. My dismembered parts have now been dispatched to three separate locations. The ashes of my bones and wobbly bits have been scattered liberally in the location that was once the RAINBOW THEATRE on the Seven Sisters Road - The folk at the Universal Church of the Kingdom of God don't actual know this at the moment so please keep schtum. My heart has been placed in a casket and surreptitiously secreted at the London Lyceum in a backstage area where the ghost of Bram Stoker still walks toking on a spliff Marley gave him back in '75. Finally my eyes have been loving gouged out of my head and will be tossed unceremoniously on to the roof of the now derelict remains of the Hammersmith Palais.

So this is all good. Yes I had hoped to out live the weekly NME and the high street presence of HMV but it seems I'm going to fall short of this by several months. I'd also hoped to live long enough to see the public stoning of David Cameron prior to his decapitation and bloated shiny face being impaled on a shitty stick, and also to be able to "tramp the dirt down" on Margaret Thatcher's grave, but again I'm going to miss these delights by a matter of seconds. So as I begin my long walk to death why not walk with me a while? Or just click straight to the 4th of June to see the final bloody and extremely joyous coup de grâce! Let's begin.