Julep Jejune, undergraduate
is currently studying for a BA in Cultural Studies. At his interview, he was asked to name, in forty-two seconds, as many of the members of the early twentieth century Dresden-based art group Die Brücke as he could.
(Kirchner, Nolde, Schmidt-Rottluf, Bleyl, Heckel, Pechstein, Kees van Dongen, Kubista, Nölken (For some amazing reason, Otto Mueller slipped his mind)) He still got in. Higher education is clearly not what it was.
Julep suffers from paedojeliphobia (an abnormal fear of jelly babies), a condition generally ascribed to the fact that his mother choked to death on a morsel of jelly baby (colour unknown but possibly yellow (or jaune)) when he was five. He was found crouching in the corner of his nursery with a jelly baby liquefying rapidly in one clenched fist, occasionally pausing in his fits of crying to squash the jelly baby's head against the floorboards in an act of such ferocity that his father considered having him certified.
Juuls has an obsession with the Roman poet Juvenal and frequently quotes the famous line ''Quis custodiet ipso custodes?'' whilst travelling at high speed on tea trays down the seven steep hills of the City of Bath. He is a fervent follower of the Cult of St Joanna of Castile, known as Joanna the Mad. Whilst her son became Charles V and one of the most powerful rulers in the history of Europe, Joanna, heartbroken by the death of her husband in 1506, spent fifty years in a state of insanity. She is known principally for her Book of Hours, made for her marriage to Philip the Fair (of Burgundy) in 1496, and as the King of Spain's daughter in the rhyme "I had a little nut tree", inspired by a visit she paid to the court of Henry VII of England in 1506.
Julep Jejune lists his interests as kite-flying, jaywalking, breeding argonauts and other cephalapod molluscs and collecting shells (especially molluscs) which he catalogues meticulously, thusly -
Razor shell n, any of various sand-burrowing bivalve molluscs which have a long tubular shell.
This example (see fig. 1) dug from beach on Jura last June.
Julep Jejune shares a flat with an unending pile of laundry and a tortoise named Mrs Jarley.
Two slot-machines occupied the white-tiled wall. One dispensed condoms, the other tampons. The latter was a discreet, hygienic white with tiny green printing
Ultrasan
Hygiene for women.
No wonder it was so effortlessly overshadowed by the bold, exciting, eye-catching purple and orange letters blazoned on black which proclaimed
JIFFI'S JOHNNIES
as in, 'Just a minute, I'll come in a jiffy'. There was a picture of an anthropomorphised condom with eyes and a mouth, standing up straight with a grin on his face, thusly -
Hmm. Julep Jejune was nice. He brushed her blouse. Best be prepared.
The array of flavours and shapes bewildered her for a second. There were half a dozen drawers, like a cigarette machine, dispensing every type of condom imaginable, and some that were not. Finally she pulled out the drawer for the
Strawberry-Flavoured
THICK-RIBBED FOR EXTRA PLEASURE
Amazing, she thought. Technology today. Knobs on the outside as well as the inside. Whatever next. Putting the packet in her jeans pocket, she was turning to leave when she spotted the graffiti carved on the door-
J A S O n
She steadied herself against the wash-basin and stared. The wood of the door stared back through the crudely carved name scratched in its paint. God, he was everywhere! She splashed some water on her face and tried to calm down. What the hell was this? She sucked in a deep breath and returned to the bar.
KER-RRRRANGGGGGGgggggg
TZZoooootttt
The smell of smoke and ale hit her like a blast from a fire.
"Hey," bawled Juuls, "You're missing the Suite for Jason." He pulled her closer.
Of course. What else would it be?
Veda flopped weakly into her chair. Suite for Jason. She whimpered slightly. Jules held out the CD and pointed to Track 7, babbling something about listening to it later at her place or his, but Veda's attention, her whole mind and body, were fixed on the neatly italicised words on the card-
7.Suite for JASON42'
She turned the case over between limpening fingers. Jools was fondling her thigh through the faded denim of her Levi jeans. The room span as Ol' Gravelly Voice roared out
HIERONYMO'S MAD AGAINE.
Why then, Ile fit you, Veda's mind replied.
She pushed back her chair. "I have to be going," she heard herself saying, "Early start." She stumbled blindly through the blanket of smoke, clutching her handbag, groping through jigging, stomping, swilling men whose only concession to this frantic figure's squirm to the door was to sway their pints up over her head, slopping and sloshing the contents over the rim so she was showered in Sheepshagger and Skull Cracker as she shoved through the crush. She thought she heard Jules as bodies crashed like cymbals struck and glasses shattered on the hard black floor and people yelled and howled and shrieked and fists crunched faces, bone on bone, thud and thump, and then, as she looked back, with her hand on the door plate, the furniture fragments, splintering, splitting, chairs and bar stools smashed over backs, and everyone cheering and yelling and throwing as
the band playing on in a joyous celebration at and of the Shouting End of Life.
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