One morning, as Stuart Lamour was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that despite only a minor insertion wound his right hand had begun to resemble not so much the one he went to sleep with, but the proboscis of the ant which had bitten him.

Marsha Hunt – Oh, no! Not the Beast Day!

Being of a generally positive disposition he went about his day as if this were a normal occurrence, which would eventually dissipate.

The first signs of something inherently different began to stir inside Stuart’s hand during the Royal Wedding. Although a staunch anti-monarchist Stuart could not help but raise his arm whenever the Queen appeared or was mentioned. His normal gut reaction to the monarch’s cake on head hat was replaced by a warm glow and feeling of love and protectiveness for her and her offspring.

In an effort to check reality he bought a copy of the Daily Mail, customarily guaranteed to launch the liberal broadsheet reading Stuart into a hopeless pit of sadness for today’s society. Instead he found himself discharging his load over a picture of some ‘European Muslim Eggs’ which happened to be positioned vertically underneath a beaming picture of HRH, in her cake hat.

Stiff upper lip aside, Stuart now realised it was probably time to seek some professional help and rang the hospital.

The carriage which arrived to collect Stuart had the traditional markings of an ambulance, but was somehow more akin to a VW disco / camper. DJ Harvey rang the bell and announced, “Get in, Locussolus“ – by which Stuart knew it was very much time to leave.

It is autumn, and coming up to dusk. As Stuart reclined in the back Harvey plugged him into a series of drips and began to administer an intravenous space funk medication to ease the mind.

Locussolus – Little Boots (An Emperor Machine Special Edit Version)

“Here we are,” Harvey says as the ambulance stops on a lovely avenue, beneath a tree – they are plane trees – in front of some sort of small private home which can be seen nestled between the courtyard and the garden, the type of small private dwelling one finds along the East Coast of Sussex. The street lamps are some distance away, and it is fairly dark inside the ambulance. Outside it is raining. Harvey whispers – “it’s on international feel dude…” and Stuart made a mental note to purchase said album as soon as his transition was complete.

“Listen,” Harvey says. “Now you’re ready. This is where I leave you. You’re to get out and go ring the doorbell. Follow whoever opens the door for you, and do whatever you’re told. If you hesitate about going in, they’ll come and take you in. If you don’t obey immediately, they’ll force you to. Now run along.”

Pink Fairies – Do it

The doctors explained to Stuart that apomorphine acts on the ant bite to regulate the metabolism and normalize the blood stream in such a way that the enzyme system of normality is destroyed over a period of twenty jazz funk daze.

Once in the any bite is regulated apomorhine can be discontinued and only used in case of relapse. Stuart agreed to undergo treatment and entered the hospital. Stuart was somewhere around Rotingdean on the edge of the cliffs when the drugs began to take hold. He remembed saying something like “I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive…”

[To be read in a Barry White voice]

Stripped naked Stuart was now firmly secured to his hospital bed by an army of uniformed worker-nurses, and their treatment began in ernest….

[Cue soft lighting]

Herb Albert – Rise

[To be continued...]

Epilogue -
This post is tagged with international feel