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May 3, 2010 | by  | in Opinion |
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Uther Dean. Eschews horoscopes. Channels ghosts.

Okay. Today, I will speak to the spirits. One of them may have a message for one of you. Let me warn you now—you will not be able to see the spirits, you will not be able to hear the spirits. You may, if you are very lucky, be able to sense the spirits. But in all likelihood you won’t. I am blessed you see. I am blessed with the sight. I can commune with the dead, with the gone and the damned, with the blips and the flips, the rotten and the forgotten. You can’t. You’ll have to get over that.

Now, to the cynical or untrained eye it may just seem like I am randomly burbling non-sensicalisms in silly voices. Rest assured that this grotesque and slanderous assumption is the very polar-bear opposite of correct. I can speak to ghosts. That is a fact. To doubt me is to doubt facts of similar established veracity. To say I cannot dialogue with the deceased is indeed paramount to claiming that gravity is merely a conspiracy of elves holding us to the floor. To deny my mediumship is to deny the sun’s dazzling rays of a dawn. To call me liar is to call the dinosaurs a threat to national security. Now we have got that out of the way, let’s move on to a wee talky with the ickle ghosties.

First, I must prepare myself. Ahem. Ah-hrmp. Maaaaaaaaaa-ahhhhhhhh. Aaaaaaaaaaaa. Na na na na na. Now, as you can see, I light the black candles of the beyond. I… Oh… Come on… Shit. Has anyone got a lighter? Or matches? Mine have run out. See? Rattle rattle. Nothing in there. Annoying. Yeah, so could I borrow… Anyone? Oh, thanks man. I’ll get it back to you after the happening happens. So, ackhem, I light the black candles of the beyond, and their turquoise flame of despair and dread becomes a pillar of fatal flame. If you cannot see this column of fiery justice puncturing dimensions then you are simply not looking hard enough. Now that the portal has opened I must recite the call to the beyond to summon all lost souls with messages to impart.

Ahem.

(To the tune of the last song you heard) Oooooh. Ooooh yeah. Dead people. Dead people. What up? Yeah! I’m here for your ca-aaaaah-ll. Gonna mouth flap you to the living living living world. Living world yeah. Oh oh ah oh oh ah. Yeah. Ooooooh baby babe babe dead people. Deeeeeeeead people. Girl.

They’re here. Can you feel it? Of course you can’t. But… Yes? One of them is coming through. Is there a… Alison in the readership? Or an Ally? Or an Ailsa? Or an Anne? Or a… Yes? Yes there is. Good. This spirit has a message for you. It’s coming from ahhh… someone from beyond. They’re someone you were close to… Has anyone in your family ever died? Yes? Hmmmm. Is either one of your grandfathers passed? Of course. I’m seeing a lot of heat around his midsection, does that mean anything to you? He used to wear clothes on his midriff? Of course he did. Do you remember his clothes? Was there anything significant about them? Oh, I didn’t think there was.

He seems to be making dog noises. Does that ring any bells? Did he have a dog? Oh, no. But did he want a dog? No. Obviously he didn’t. Why didn’t he? Of course, he didn’t like them. Because… he was allergi… bitten by one! Yes. I know. My powers are amazing. His message is… It’s something about shoes?

Have you lost some shoes? No. Do you need some shoes? Did your sister Jen or Gen steal some of your shoes recently? No… Hrm… Do you have a picture of any shoes? No. Do you like taking pictures? No… Have you had your photo taken recently? In the past couple of weeks… Yes! He’s concerned about those pictures. Photos capture your soul, see. If you allow those photos to see the light of day then something terrible or mildly annoying or good will happen to you. He wants you to know that. Or something. I dunno. The line’s a bit fuzzy.

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About the Author ()

Uther was one of the two arts editors in 2009. He was the horoscopier and theatre writer in 2010. Alongside Elle Hunt, Uther was coeditor in 2011.

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