The Evening Tickler

Board the Ghost Train with Steve and Julian, hurtle sideways through the corrugated mind of celebrated Graffiti Dog artist Peter Mayer. Like listening to three octopuses dancing to Vivaldi at 45 rpm on vacuum cleaners in the Sistene Chapel during a paintball marathon sponsored by Ludwig II of Bavaria. Or a chainsaw running through the Encyclopedia Britannica. Wear goggles to avoid splatter. If you smell burnt toast, stop immediately, seek medical assistance.

Board the Ghost Train with Steve and Julian, hurtle sideways through the corrugated mind of celebrated Graffiti Dog artist Peter Mayer. Like listening to three octopuses dancing to Vivaldi at 45 rpm on vacuum cleaners in the Sistene Chapel during a paintball marathon sponsored by Ludwig II of Bavaria. Or a chainsaw running through the Encyclopedia Britannica. Wear goggles to avoid splatter. If you smell burnt toast, stop immediately, seek medical assistance.

Like three gurning codgers outside a Provençal pissoir, Steve, Peter and Julian leer at passers-by whilst ruminating upon the events of a rainy but euphoric Bovina Farm Day. The crowds, the mud, stray fingers on the hay ride and a whiff of nepotism scented in the Best Apple Pie. Look, Stranger on the only rural backwater in the western hemisphere that can boast a Scarecrow Contest judged by the art critic at The New Yorker. And with a throbbing Tom & Jerry-style thumb to boot, the result of a reckless weekend encounter with a hawthorn bush. By turns merry, irascible and silent; think The Three Stooges without laughter.

Like three gurning codgers outside a Provençal pissoir, Steve, Peter and Julian leer at passers-by whilst ruminating upon the events of a rainy but euphoric Bovina Farm Day. The crowds, the mud, stray fingers on the hay ride and a whiff of nepotism scented in the Best Apple Pie. Look, Stranger on the only rural backwater in the western hemisphere that can boast a Scarecrow Contest judged by the art critic at The New Yorker. And with a throbbing Tom & Jerry-style thumb to boot, the result of a reckless weekend encounter with a hawthorn bush. By turns merry, irascible and silent; think The Three Stooges without laughter.

Roxbury, Sunday evening. Like in 'On the Beach', staring at Seattle through a periscope; no sign of life. A black VW GTI makes its way up River Street, pulls to a halt outside the Masonic Temple. Out steps Carolyn Dowd in white sneakers, cradling a Salem 100. The darkness crumbles away. She comes, like St Agatha, from Catania, Sicily, with her boobs on a plate and a message of faith, hope and resistance. Halcyon weeks spent among the 'New Europeans' - refugees from Cameroon, Mali, Nigeria, Eritrea, and Senegal on the southernmost shores of Italy. Watch what happens when Steve and Julian, weaned on the Diet of Worms, are given the juicy caterpillar of human communion to melt upon their tongues. 'Take, eat' Carolyn said. 'This is my body.'

Roxbury, Sunday evening. Like in 'On the Beach', staring at Seattle through a periscope; no sign of life. A black VW GTI makes its way up River Street, pulls to a halt outside the Masonic Temple. Out steps Carolyn Dowd in white sneakers, cradling a Salem 100. The darkness crumbles away. She comes, like St Agatha, from Catania, Sicily, with her boobs on a plate and a message of faith, hope and resistance. Halcyon weeks spent among the 'New Europeans' - refugees from Cameroon, Mali, Nigeria, Eritrea, and Senegal on the southernmost shores of Italy. Watch what happens when Steve and Julian, weaned on the Diet of Worms, are given the juicy caterpillar of human communion to melt upon their tongues. 'Take, eat' Carolyn said. 'This is my body.'

In an effort to mitigate the discomfort of a promised colonoscopy, Rob Howard shuffles up to the Tickler stable with hot nuts and two cryogenically chilled bottles of champagne. Initially, Joe Burnett and the Virgin are too consumed with their own immaculate honking to notice: but Rob persists, pulling the baby from the manger and dangling it out of the window in a move worthy of Michael Jackson. Tales of the Dalai Lama, near-death experiences in Mexico and Oprah and of a world embraced by a mighty Canadian bear-hug, only serve to confirm Hamlet's truism - 'that one may smile, and smile, and be a villain.'

In an effort to mitigate the discomfort of a promised colonoscopy, Rob Howard shuffles up to the Tickler stable with hot nuts and two cryogenically chilled bottles of champagne. Initially, Joe Burnett and the Virgin are too consumed with their own immaculate honking to notice: but Rob persists, pulling the baby from the manger and dangling it out of the window in a move worthy of Michael Jackson. Tales of the Dalai Lama, near-death experiences in Mexico and Oprah and of a world embraced by a mighty Canadian bear-hug, only serve to confirm Hamlet's truism - 'that one may smile, and smile, and be a villain.'

Summer begins to roll up its awning as The Tickler makes its baptismal foray into song; Julian Fleisher - cackling midwife of WNYC's 'The Naked American Songbook' - shoulders his backwoods birthing utensils and proceeds to tickle every orifice with knitting needles, a two-foot length of rubber hose and a necklace of gin-soaked juniper berries. In the words of Noël Coward 'the taste of which was filthy, but the after-effects divine'. Music, laughter, mawkish sincerity, scurrilous gossip, smiles and tears. You'll be in floods of 'em.

Summer begins to roll up its awning as The Tickler makes its baptismal foray into song; Julian Fleisher - cackling midwife of WNYC's 'The Naked American Songbook' - shoulders his backwoods birthing utensils and proceeds to tickle every orifice with knitting needles, a two-foot length of rubber hose and a necklace of gin-soaked juniper berries. In the words of Noël Coward 'the taste of which was filthy, but the after-effects divine'. Music, laughter, mawkish sincerity, scurrilous gossip, smiles and tears. You'll be in floods of 'em.