Seen in Satan’s kitchen (who’s he?)

Jim… where are you? Calling Jim calling Jim come in… (damn – where’s my fellow Apostate?)

To the left, next to the fellow you met unclad just the other day, sits Zanzi. Zanzi is as old as I am (that’s some small change just over half a century) and Zanzi is about the only keepsake of sentimental value that the filth and the slime that we sometimes refer to as humanity have not managed to separate from me. Zanzi was a gift from an unknown aunt (don’t know who she was, my memory don’t go back that far) that I received when I was two week old brat in-the-making.

Yeah, I’m a misanthropic apostate.

Jim?

You see, by my books you get two kinds of humanity.

You get The Apostates (that’s us the faithless, who by inference, or, via graduation from The School of Hard Knocks, evolve into embittered misanthropists or variants thereof) then you get the filth and the slime.

Which of the two are you?

(footnote: three’s the lucky number in my army and in my army we are three – I, the Tokkaloshe Man, run the show and am self-appointed Field Marshall; the dude on the trunk was a former vicar who sort of acts as spiritual chaplain and he also overseas all intelligence activities; and Zanzi’s our foot-soldier, he’s the? – he’s the reconnaissance guy who does the dirty work and together we make a fine team!)

Bonus link: Great Books For Men – a.k.a The Chateau’s resident genius pet troll and well-worth a visit if you think like us. Good night. Err, morning.