GANTOB blog

82. PROF GRAYLING MUIR – part 3

Dec 14th, 2023

Part of a weekly series (Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5).

Sitting in the sun, waiting for Curt Finks, Bronwyn sat, eyes closed, enjoying the unseasonal warmth. Sunday to Wednesday had been miserable – dark and cold. Shivering at the thought, she reflected that if it hadn’t been for the rain she could have believed that they were on the far side of the moon. She was thinking about Grayling Muir.

Trotting along the side of water, The Vixen’s great-great grandmother was looking for two things: shelter and trouble. Tussocky sedges provided some cover. Thin as a rake, from her long journey south, she was desperate for something to eat. Thoughtful, inspecting a sign that read like a menu, she imagined her way through the list of birds available locally. The hen harriers looked fantastic, but she reckoned that she would have to make do with a wigeon or a winter thrush. That’s the way it goes.

Rounding the corner towards the hide she stopped suddenly. Resting, head against the wooden slats, Bronwyn, was snoring slightly, smiling. Realising that this human was likely to be guarding this avian smorgasbord from predators such as herself, The Vixen was uncharacteristically hesitant. Retreating into the undergrowth, carefully noting the edge of the water, she bided her time.

Wigeon – from BTO website

Out on the still water, there was anxious chatter between the Brent Geese families. Observing the red tail protruding between the reeds, there was speculation about the intentions – and indeed the species – of this intruder. One theory that circulated rapidly, easily disproved, was that it was a red squirrel: nothing to worry about. Others thought that it was a cat. Older geese listened to the golden plover, with their superior vantage point: it was a fox. Ominously, it was starting to turn to face them.

Before taking off, the geese honked out a code that was intelligible to most of the bird species in the vicinity: panic. Beating their wings, legs spinning cartoon-style in (and then on) the water they seemed to be taking flight in slow motion. Bronwyn roused from her semi-slumber see what all the fuss was about.

Golden Plover: from RSPB website

Eventually the birds lifted off. Eyes unused to the glare off the water, Bronwyn lifted her hand to shade her face. Each goose that flew past blocked the sun out for a split second, the pattern repeating dozens of times: a flashing, flapping, feathery strobe. Epileptogenic. Evening fell and Bronwyn sat in a stupor, dreaming of Grayling Muir.

GANTOB

14 December 2023

Reconstructed from a phone call with Bronwyn _____ (nee Gosling), December 2023, where she recounted events from one of Prof Muir’s visits sometime between 1988-1990

Cover photo of Winter Thrush, taken by Simon Johnson, is from BirdGuides website.

If you have 400 words to submit, please get in touch. Ignore the deadlines, but please remember to provide an excuse for being late. If your blog is used in December 2023 you will receive a copy of the forthcoming book: GANTOB’s 2023: A trilogy, including your contribution. Good luck!
81. THE EPIPHANY OF THE BOSS (BY LIAM)

Dec 13th, 2023

Yesterday we were reminded (by NIk) of the cast of characters populating The GANTOBverse, including my former boss and nemesis, Susan.

Segueing as smoothly as a professional DJ, today’s post, submitted weeks ago by Liam, allows us to look inside the head of this KLF novice as she makes her first explorations. I’m starting to warm to her myself.

And we have the second mention of Hi-Viz in consecutive days.

Take it away Liam!

Susan wakes each morning with a gnawing unease. She knows she was right to sack GANTOB… or was she? This is the crux of her problem. GANTOB was a diligent, and hard working travelling salesperson, and there had been no reason thus far to question her work. Susan made the decision there and then to try and understand exactly What The Fuuk was going on.

£32.23 later, a ticket is stored in her phone and plans were in place to attend The Skool Of Death and attend The Krossing in Liverpool. She knew the city well from her business dealings, but she needed to know why GANTOB had risked her career on what she reckoned was nonsensical.

The morning of 23^rd November broke. The honk of geese passing overhead had awoken Susan from a disturbed sleep. She packed her bag with what she knew she needed, and also with some things that she found utterly perplexing. Hazard tape, a hi-viz vest, and a JAM jar with a picture of The KLF rolled up and stored inside. These were the instruktions she had read and not understood fully. But she needed to understand – hence the journey she was about to take.

The car trip was smooth and a stop at some services was interrupted by the relentless honk of geese. Was she hallucinating after too early a morning start? No, a gaggle of geese seemed to be following her through the service station. How odd she thought. But nothing seemed that odd these days!

Susan arrived in Liverpool just in time for the induction to The Skool Of Death. Why was she here? How would this day help her understand why GANTOB had destroyed her career, a steady job and future?

Nothing for it other than to dive head first into the chaos and konfusion that she was feeling. This was the only way to try and restore the balance, rid herself of this constant unease.

But as usual, the fear struck, and the best way to address the fear as we all know is a massive coffee.

It was here that Susan found herself talking to a fellow lost soul. Over the course of a long chat and ridiculous caffeine intake, Susan is emboldened to throw herself into the Skool’s timetable over the course of the day.

Would she find the ANSWER?

To be continued….

Liam

13 December 2023

If you have 400 words to submit, please get in touch. Ignore the deadlines, but please remember to provide an excuse for being late. If your blog is used in December 2023 you will receive a copy of the forthcoming book: GANTOB’s 2023: A trilogy, including your contribution. Good luck!
80. NO HI-VIZ (BY THE INCONSISTENT INFLUENCER)

Dec 12th, 2023
Many thanks to The Inconsistent Influencer (AKA NIk) for today’s blog. It feels very apt. Today, Ali and I are leaving The Manse, formerly our family home. We’re kasualties of the church mergers that I first wrote about in the Kompanion Volume(*). Our son, who has just finished his first semester at Uni, has declined the offer to come and stay with us in a hotel on a roundabout off the M9. Most of our stuff is in storage in an industrial estate at Aviemore. I have a box of GANTOB materials safely tucked away in the cupboard with a kettle and spare pillows. And currently I’m wondering whether hazelnut chocolate jars still come in the same shape so that I can acquire a lid to securely house Chas, cart and The Benefaktor. None of the local convenience stores have a suitably sized jar. Maybe they’d have something suitable on Gumtree. I ruminate on what I would pay for a suitable cap on eBay. At least Little Grapefruit and the Tardis are safely screwed up.

NIk finds some interesting angles to explore in his blog. What, indeed, does Ali have up his sleeve? I would love to know. And there’s lots of life yet in the other characters, except perhaps Curt Finks’ ghost. Find out how you can take part at the end of this blog. But for now, it’s over to NIk.

In a festively illuminated room, shelves cluttered with relics of the early 90s, I ponder her peculiar request for a tale set in the twilight of 2023. My fingers dance hesitantly on the keyboard, crafting a narrative that could satisfy GANTOB’s continuing demands:

GANTOB, with her enigmatic charm, remains, herself, entwined in the labyrinth of her own creation. In an unknown Scottish manse, she navigates the absurdities of daily life, randomly distributing her narrative through pamphlets. Unbeknownst to us all, her husband Ali, the mysterious man of the manse, harbours secrets which will unravel across coming days.

The Benefaktor, GANTOB’S shadowy sponsor lurks in the background, orchestrating a symphony of events involving his granddaughter, “The Foundation Doktor” (TFD).

TFD, another character shrouded in mystery, embarks on a journey that transcends the Benio.

Contemporaneously, The Photographer, an enigmatic acquaintance of The Benefaktor, captures moments that blur the lines between reality and fiction.

Susan, GANTOB’s former boss, recurs in unexpected ways, injecting a dose of corporate chaos into the narrative. Legal obligations loom, diluting the whimsical world which GANTOB has meticulously crafted.

Amid the chaos, the ghost of Curt Finks fades, a spectral presence passing through the fabric of time.

As the year wanes, GANTOB’s weird world collides with that of Bronwyn Gosling, the late Curt Finks’ ornithological opposite.

Their trajectories intertwine in an eclectic ballet, echoing the ephemeral nature of existence.

Characters from GANTOB’s first book, “Grapefruit Are Not The Only Bombs: 2023 re-enactment,” kibble, adding layers to the intricate tapestry of her GANTOBverse.

In a moment of macabre mayhem, I, the middle-aged maestro (with a perversion for the KLF), find myself submerged in a subplot of my own – a mouse meets an untimely demise, a curious casualty of the chaos charging GANTOB’s universe.

And so, with 400 words steeped in the eccentric fabric of GANTOB’s imagination, I humbly submit my tapestried narrative of peculiarities that mirror the idiosyncrasies of the KLF-infused GANTOBverse. The promise of a limited edition A5 book, adorned with illustrations and vivid colors, awaits – I hope I’ll be fortunate and secure my coveted copy in the whimsy world that GANTOB has kreated.

NIk (latterly the Inconsistent Influencer (The Old Man On Facebook/The Young Man on Twitter [now X]). Also known as @Page93Photography)

12 December 2023

The final weeks of 2023 are proving a productive time for Bill Drummond, Jimmy Cauty and friends:
- A new piece by Bill Drummond on the Caught by the River website – The Galloverse Translation
And just released from The Krossing, 23 November 2023:
- Chill Out Live at The Skool of Death performed by Stephen Clark 1980, Gary and Ste
- Jimmy Cauty’s The Ice Kream Van Rave as shared by Stephen Clark 1980
And being December 2023 there may be more to come. There is still time for you to make a contribution to this blog. It may prove well worth the effort.

If you have 400 words to submit, please get in touch. Ignore the deadlines, but please remember to provide an excuse for being late. If your blog is used in December 2023 you will receive a copy of the forthcoming book: GANTOB’s 2023: A trilogy, including your contribution. Good luck!

(*) Any resemblance to churches past, present or future, real or imagined, is entirely unintentional. It is a plot device to maintain our anonymity. All you really need to know is that we’ve been uprooted and are currently in temporary accommodation.
79. NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL LOVE (BY STUART HUGGETT)

Dec 11th, 2023

There have been many unexpected coincidences and connections in my daily posts on the GANTOB blog. A lot have been concentrated around the streets of Edinburgh. And a fair few emanate from The Benefaktor.

So it’s apt that Stuart Huggett’s second guest blog is set in central Edinburgh, and studies the close bond between The Benefaktor and his granddaughter The Foundation Doktor. The Benefaktor tells me that they have an “ionic bond” (a close and stable connection). Apparently it contrasts with the covalent bond that I have with The Benefaktor – a “stable balance of attractive and repulsive forces” that ties us, but at a distance.

If you haven’t already read Stuart’s first blog, please check it out before reading on.

Over to Stuart to take us through a musical tour of the late 1980s and 1990s, bringing us bang up to date with our characters in the process.

GANTOB

Watch Stuart’s narration here:

The Benefaktor is heading into Edinburgh city centre to meet his granddaughter, known to some as The Foundation Doktor, for coffee. As he walks, he ponders her burgeoning enthusiasm for The KLF. She wasn’t born until a few years after their run of hits so this is all history to her, he feels. Mansplaining instincts kick in and he diverts into HMV on Princes Street to browse the compilations section, hoping for a hits CD that could help her place The KLF and The Timelords in a wider musical context.

Recognising the Now That’s What I Call Music! brand, he’s pleased to find a run of reissued 80s and 90s volumes in a 2 For £16 promotion, picking out Now 12 for ‘Doctorin’ The Tardis’ and, why not, the preceding Now 11.

Soon after, chatting amiably over their coffees, The Benefaktor hands over his gifts. His granddaughter accepts them with gratitude but secretly little enthusiasm and it is only that evening, after dinner has been eaten and television watched, that she idly picks the CDs up again to study their contents more closely.

And there on Now 11 she spots it. Coldcut Feat. Yazz & The Plastic Population – ‘Doctorin’ The House’. The memory bell rings again. She picks up her phone and finds the track on YouTube, in all its acid house, cut and paste glory.

“Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar?” jumps out from the cavalcade of samples. She DID remember the ‘Staged’ line from somewhere after all. She could only have heard it on Pick Of The Pops while driving with her parents recently, that’s where much of her knowledge of hits of the 80s has come from. Thank you Steve Wright!

David Tennant would remember that track, of course, and Cauty and Drummond were playing with its title when they made their Timelords single. A diagram of connections fans out in her mind.

The Doktor scrolls through Coldcut’s ‘Beats + Pieces’, ‘Say Kids! What Time Is It?’ and their JAMs-sampling remix of Society’s ‘Love It!’ before the YouTube sidebar recommends ‘I’m In Deep’ featuring Mark E Smith.

She clicks the link, laughing at Smith’s wildly distorted vocal. The sidebar then offers her The Fall’s ‘Edinburgh Man’ and the Doktor, tiring by now, emotionally vulnerable, wells up as Smith sings of wandering the city alone. The figure reminds her of her grandfather. Tears begin to fall.

Stuart Huggett

11 December 2023

GANTOB’s reflections:

I had not previously heard The Fall song Stuart mentions, or seen the video. It is difficult to imagine that Mark E Smith is dead after seeing him in such rude health (and smiling) in the video, walking through scenes that have barely changed in the intervening 30 years. And what a tune – something that he worked on for 18 months after spending time in Edinburgh; a marked contrast to his usual creative process.

However, on the theme of coincidences, watch the video carefully and you’ll see – 1:25 and 4:00 minutes into the video – Mark E Smith and bandmates at the top of the Playfair Steps that The Benefaktor was said to have fallen down a couple of months ago. That was a source of great worry to me at the time. But this is all pure chance. I have asked my music pals and The Fall’s the Edinburgh Man is new to them as well. Though of course the subconscious plays funny tricks, as Stuart points out.

And the dynamic between The Foundation Doktor and her grandfather that Stuart captures is very touching too. My father is suffering from dementia, and is increasingly frail. That has been very much on my mind while writing the book, pamphlets and blog. It is also a worry for my children, who have moved away but stay in close contact. It’s interesting that Stuart has projekted this onto The Foundation Doktor’s relationship with The Benefaktor. Or perhaps KLF fans are just much more likely to be part of the sandwich generation.
78. GREY IS THE COLOUR OF HOPE – part 2 (BY GAYNOR)

Dec 10th, 2023

Today’s post continues on from where we left off yesterday. Intriguingly we also hear from The Benefaktor, but not the benefacktor. Over to you again Gaynor…

Listen to Gaynor narrate both parts of her piece here:

Grey is not flat cold and shadowless like black. It does not engulf and cover.

Or swamp.

Grey has tone.

There’s perspective, warmth, movement and light.

Grey had hope.

*

Why did this resonate with me so much?

I had been stuck trapped / engulfed in black before, with no music and no art back in the olden times.

Grey allowed me to wake up and escape. It was a way out.

Grey is the colour of hope.

*

Every day I stood in front of that tin of International Grey paint by Bill Drummond I was just so in love with the idea that grey could wipe out the offensive and beauty could be had everywhere at your own whim. I loved it was actually a tin of paint.

I used to fantasise about liberating it and taking it down to B&Q and watching people mull it over.

It was perfect. It’s not a mock up pretend impostor of a tin. There were no shoddy paper labels. Care, attention to detail and planning had gone into that tin of International Grey.

I pondered did Bill say to Alan in his Scottish lit: Aye Alan, this grey would be perfect for you? Do you wanna borrow it? Or was it an acktual kollaboration?

Or had Alan previously collected/ bought it a time ago?

Art by RONYAG YENNIF, with thanks

Who could I ask? (I was only a brief acquaintance with the benefacktor(+)).

So I never did.

The International grey paint is an enigma I’ve seen …….

*

International Grey gave me hope.

International Grey gave me my art back.

International Grey IS the colour of hope.

Gaynor

10 December 2023

(+) The Benefaktor would like it noted that “the benefacktor” is not the same person as has featured in this earlier instalments of this blog, and who funded the great majority of the GANTOB project, posting, materials, and even at one point offered GANTOB a stipend. The Benefaktor notes the following simple rules: the benefacktor who Gaynor mentions – AKA Alan’s benefacktor perhaps – has a lower case “b”. He or she has added the “k”, but retains the “c”. The reason for this is not clear. The Benefaktor – always a stickler for rules – would also like it noted that Gaynor’s blog does not follow GANTOB’s rules of Kreative Tyranny. At 685 words it is too long for a single blog, and too short for a double post. These notes make them two perfect 400s.

If you have 400 words you would like to contribute to this blog, please get in touch. Ignore the deadlines, but please remember to provide an excuse for being late. If your blog is used in December 2023 you will receive a copy of the forthcoming book: GANTOB’s 2023: A trilogy. Good luck!
77. GREY IS THE COLOUR OF HOPE – part 1 (BY GAYNOR)

Dec 9th, 2023

Listen to Gaynor narrate both parts of her piece here:

Today’s blog is by Gaynor. It’s a two parter. It responds to GANTOB pamphlet X13: Paint Them Black. That pamphlet exists only in the real world. There will only ever be 60 copies. They were printed in a range of colours. The pamphlet mentions a special type of paint, which came in a range of shades.

Gaynor’s piece will be included in the forthcoming GANTOB book (publication date 23 January 2024), and she automatically becomes one of the recipients of this book. If you would like to write a post, under the same terms, there are further details at the end of this blog.

Over to you Gaynor!

I didn’t think I had any kontributions/ kollaborations or whatever in me.

But I’d felt such an honour being number 11 in GANTOB’s first book.

What I do I know is Bill Drummond grey. I first encountered it in 2012. I’m being vague – not deliberately, but because memory tricks you, and sometimes when we remember we embellish things. However, it doesn’t really matter when you aren’t sharing your memory. But now I am.

*

November 2023: I received some GANTOB pamphlets in the post to my joy while working from home. Taking a swift break of allocated time, I gave them my attention.

GANTOB Pamphlet X13 (Paint Them Black) jumped out at me because it was yellow. I’m very drawn to yellow. It’s a very glowing pulsating salvation of a colour full of rebirths, growth and new starts. (I had a load of therapy in the old days and yellow chose me as a safe space/ colour).

On reading the pamphlet I had some thoughts about Bill Drummond’s affair with paint. I too love a bit of paint: it soothes the soul. Bill, being an artist, and him famously offering 1000 tins of grey paint for sale. I wondered what happened to them.

GANTOB mentions a fan blog saying Bill produced/ manufactured the paint in the mid 90s.

The paint was intended to cover anything the buyer found morally or aesthetically offensive, promoting vandalism – or was it? What if, when you are covering up something offensive to your eyes, you are making it beautiful or even just bearable? Even if only to yourself?

Where are these tins of paint? Knocked over in a shed getting rusty? Under the stairs getting a skin on them? I don’t know who knows. Did anyone buy any?

I digress ……I’ve seen one of those tins of paint.

Stood within breathing distance.

Stood within holding it distance ……

Every day for three months while invigilating at Liverpool art prize in 2012, I was drawn to a partikular artist’s work. This was Alan Dunn. I breathed in his work, in my nostrils and in my pores. I couldn’t get enough. I loved Alan’s space in the gallery. It encapsulated everything I love: music, records, CDs, cassette tapes, art and of course Bill’s tin of paint. The shade was: Drummond’s International Grey.

The cassette tapes were titled: Grey is the colour of hope.

*

Grey IS the colour of hope.

To be continued tomorrow…

Gaynor

9 December 2023

If you have 400 words you would like to contribute to this blog, please get in touch. Ignore the deadlines, but please remember to provide an excuse for being late. If your blog is used in December 2023 you will receive a copy of the forthcoming book: GANTOB’s 2023: A trilogy. Good luck!
76. GANTOB’s DREAM (BY ARIADNE)

Dec 8th, 2023

Thanks to Ariadne for this lovely connektion back to one of Bill Drummond’s pre-KLF guises: The Manager. I can assure that The Benefaktor and Bill Drummond are kompletely different people. I have had to sit through a few turgid encounters with The Benefaktor, so can tell you this first hand. He’s older, taller, thinner, and has a bit more hair than Bill Drummond. He’s a necessary evil when I am strapped for kash with a projekt to deliver.

Art work provided by yours truly.

I dreamt about The Benefaktor again last night. He was wheeling me down a quiet country lane, in a homemade cart. There are two compartments, and I am stuck in the second. There isn’t much room. There’s all sorts of rubbish in here and odd bits paraphernalia hanging off the sides. An old radio, a broom, a framed seven inch. We stop every now and then and he chucks odd bits of rubbish in. I try to move into the first section where there’s only a guitar but he keeps on pushing me back. He is very unhappy with me. He starts to berate me. I’m still unemployed, what’s he to do with me? All of this has been brought on because I asked him to be a referee for a job that I wanted to apply for. He said that he wouldn’t do it, but that Chas would. Chas is sitting in front of me.

He turns around and I can sense his sticky malevolence. He joins in the browbeating, gesticulating with his squishy arms and speaking in that high pitched gibberish. The Benefaktor starts speaking in the same nonsense language. They are going to give me a list, a list of 17 things that I need to do if I want to get a j.o.b.

Their rules are all very baffling. And make no sense at all. Especially the last one which the The Benefaktor, wagging a finger in my face, delivered with absolute finality ‘And, NO REMIXES!’

Credit: GANTOB

All of a sudden, Chas crumbles and I start picking him up and trying to squash him back together. I want to throw him out of the cart but The Benefaktor insists he stays inside. Suddenly Chas is standing in front of me once again, still in the front compartment with just the guitar meanwhile odds bits and pieces keep appearing in my section. Bits of brick and toblerone, a grapefruit covered in ash that I almost step on. I pick up the grapefruit and it’s wearing a fake moustache. The Benefaktor takes it from me, rips off the moustache and says ‘that will be good for T.V.’ The Grapefruit then turns around smiles and winks at me, she jumps out of his hand and rolls away. Chas yelps after her. He then breaks apart into 400 little grapefruit and they all follow her off into the sunset.

Ariadne

8 December 2023

Finally, if you have 400 words you would like to contribute to this blog, please get in touch.
75. PROF GRAYLING MUIR – part 2

Dec 7th, 2023

Continuing an account of the activities of Bronwyn Gosling, Grayling Muir and Curt Finks back in 1992. Part of a weekly series (Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5).

When Curt Finks left his cottage that morning, his thoughts were broken down as follows: 80% on ink and printing equipment, 15% on Brent Geese migration, and 5% on the piece of apple pie that was left over. He was not thinking about the leaves on the path that lay before him or the black wooden gate that had been jammed shut for the past few days. He pulled on his jacket, checked his pockets for his sandwich and apple, and hurried down the steps, only to slip on the leaves, slide down the path, tumbling headfirst over the gate.

Trying to maintain some sense of dignity he brushed himself down, retrieved the apple and his cap, and set off once again, heading for the twitchers’ hide on the edge of the fens. He would need to hurry if he was to meet Bronwyn at their rendezvous point, entering the hide together to minimise the disturbance to the birds. He picked up his pace. Tripping on a curb by the cul-de-sac in the new estate, he found himself trying, unsuccessfully, to right himself for the second time that morning, his landing cushioned by a pair of unfamiliar white sports shoes.

Investigating further, looking up, and then even further up, he found himself being helped to his feet by a huge binoculared stranger wearing a purple sweatshirt under unzipped waterproof. It bore the logo of a Canadian university. “Curt Finks, I presume”, the stranger laughed, shaking his hand and putting his other arm around Finks’ shoulder. “Are you alright? The name’s Muir”. Curt Finks rubbed his hands on his trousers, inspecting his palms for cuts and embedded gravel, and issued four hundred words of angst before the other man stopped him with a smile and a friendly shake of his head.

Later that afternoon, following sandwiches and tea, after which Finks had “certainly not” had a postprandial nap, Grayling asked Finks about his traumatic morning. Curt had warmed to the Canadian professor, despite his slovenly dress. It transpired that an enthusiast from a fanzine called “Fringe of The Fringe” had door-stopped Finks when he was still in his pyjamas, asking for details about his yearly Edinburgh Fringe show. Discussion quickly moved to Finks’ “famous printing set” and his bespoke programmes, unique to each performance. Did he keep a copy for his archives? Finks had no idea what she was talking about.

To be continued in a week

Reconstructed from Curt Finks’ 1992 diary (by Ali and GANTOB 2023)

Finally, if you have 400 words you would like to contribute to this blog, please get in touch.
74. FROM KOH-INKY-DENKI TO KONNEKTIONS AND KAOS (BY JR)

Dec 6th, 2023
Yesterday’s excellent blog by JR received a lot of kind words:
- “The blog entries so far have been really, really good” (bobbinsofbrisbane)
- “This one really moved me” (missiformation)
- “I love this one. Art brings comfort and sanctuary… (I also love Anthony Gormley)” (mitzee75)
Today we hear more from JR, in another powerful post. Thank you very much JR!

I saw Brian Cox the physicist on TV talking about entropy and time. Entropy cannot decrease over time. Descent from order to disorder is ineluctable. Kaos always wins. Viz the 1992 Brit awards.

How is order kreated? Through konnektions of course. Konnektions can be physikal, molekcular, atomik; but recent events in this blog have exposed a metaphysikal form. GANTOB may have stumbled upon the dark matter which glues sentient and imaginary beings together. A form of kwantum entanglement that can kreate physikal effects from intangible konnektions formed solely from koh-inky-denki.

Let me elaborate. I have never consciously met GANTOB or Little Grapefruit. However, the book and the blog keep throwing out koh-inky-denkis…

Little Grapefruit’s travels through the kapitals took her to Vienna. I have no doubt that while she was there she would go to the Naschmarkt. She would have met her friends and distant relations on the many fruit stalls. We used to stay near there. If she looked back through her time teleskope, capturing the light from 25 years ago, she would see me and my 6-year-old son being vox popped for Austrian TV as we bought a kilo of mushrooms. We were on the six o’clock news. From Naschmarkt it’s a short roll or tram to the Hundertwasserhaus. Looking through my own time teleskope I can see myself walking the same textured floor she rolled along. To this day I have a print of the krazily kurved konstruction that is Hundertwasserhaus on my study wall. It’s not a place you read or hear about very often. Koh-inky-denki.

Credit: Photo by JR

GANTOB lives, at least as I type, in a manse. I am now a karer for a woman, a child of many manses. A manse-rvant if you will. The manse child has kanker. Treated with 5FU and other kemikals. Yesterday, after a year of waiting, I saw an NHS dermatologist. He diagnosed kronik keratosis on the kranium and prescribed 5FU. Koh-inky-denki. I didn’t see that coming. It will burn my bonce and I will have to be plastered like The Benefakor. Koh-inky-denki. If I’m beaned by a stray GANTOB pamphlet the next time I walk under a bridge I’ll know for sure something is going on and another konnektion has been forged.

The mere reappearance of the kemikal 5FU is remarkable as it now konnekts 3 stories in this blog. Its purpose is to destrukt kanker. Kanker is a perverse konnektion of korrupted cells. 5FU is a destroyer of those konnektions, a delivery system for targeted kaos. The trick is to focus the destruktion to avoid kollateral damage. That is where klinikal science needs metaphysikal help. Can the dark matter of koh-inky-denki, uncovered via this blog, konnekt with the interstellar ley lines and the angel of Mu-Mu to kreate a kure? Science advances logikally and it is fair to have faith in science. There is also hope in konjekture, and with hope all is not lost. Hope on and keep the faith.

JR

6 December 2023

To answer JR’s point about Naschmarkt – Little Grapefruit did indeed visit when she was there (though she didn’t write about it).

However, another figure important to the GANTOBverse does mention Naschmarkt, but that is in a story that is hidden deep in earlier posts:
- Either a hidden hyperlink within the Vienna leg of Little Grapefruit’s trip: you need to look really closely
- Or an Austrian-themed clue within the pictures in Stuart Huggett’s Dr Who post (easiest to see in the first photo)
Finally, if you have 400 words you would like to contribute to this blog, please get in touch.

Good luck, GANTOB
73. KOH-INKY-DENKI, KANKER, & AN ANGEL OF MU-MU (BY JR)

Dec 5th, 2023

In this 5th day of contributions from GANTOB correspondents, JR reflects on the power of coincidence. JR finds connections between GANTOB’s work and his wife’s treatment. Thank you JR for sharing your experiences and for your deep reflection on all things GANTOB.

My wife, H, and me deliberately mispronounce “coincidence” as “Koh–Inky-Denki”. The phrase “never underestimate the power of Koh-Inky-Denki” is often used.

In August I saw GANTOB’s pamphlet 8 and entered the Kompetition. My question involved art, money, sickness, memory and comfort. It was answered with a quote from Anthony Gormley in GANTOB’s book. I enjoyed the book but my eye drifted off GANTOB’s literary ball. I missed the blog, until an unexpected package containing 3 pamphlets associated with death, prediction and Krossing arrived. Subjects at the forefront of our minds. Koh-Inky-Denki? One pamphlet pointed me at the blog. I am now up to date.

GANTOB initially moved on from the letter “K” fixation, but it returns in later blog posts. The Benefaktor makes a point on the +ve and -ve duality of the word “sanction” and suggests “sanktion” should be used as the +ve connotation. I struggle to find a positive connotation for cancer, but I’m sick of seeing and hearing it and henceforth am adopting “kanker”. I thought this would be a personal neologism but it is actually the Dutch spelling. Koh-Inky-Denki?

H has pankreatik kanker. Stage 4, inoperable, terminal. A clinical trial involving a cocktail of chemotherapy drugs (including 5FU as used by The Benefaktor, Koh-Inky-Denki) keeps her alive but there are days when she gets tired and just sits looking at the garden or the TV.

H is a minister’s daughter, her early life was peripatetic. Her formative years were spent in Newcastle. She retains a great fondness for the North East. I anticipated GANTOB’s response in the Kompetition. I went to the North East and spent a month’s pension on a 6×3 foot steel sculpture of the Angel of The North. I installed it in our garden for H to look at on her quiet days.

Gormley’s work is narcissistic, focussed on his body, but it invites us to consider both the human form and the human condition. H’s condition is poor, but she has Faith, our AOTN brings her Komfort.

I will supplicate to anything, real or imagined that might help H. GANTOB rightly says we cannot avoid loss* but I had a fever dream where I appealed to The Ancients of Mu-Mu for the interstellar ley line to be rerouted through our AOTN to bring healing. Can Angels of Mu-Mu be justified? Sculpture often lasts beyond an artist’s first death** but can it postpone one?

JR, 5 December 2023

Footnotes:

* Pamphlet X13 Paint Them Black

**Pamphlet X12 Who Died Last, which references Banksy et al.

Each of the intrepid explorers of the GANTOBverse have provided 400 words about the characters introduced in the first GANTOB book (published September 2023) and this blog. In return they will be sent a kopy of the book of this blog (planned for publikation 23 January 2024). Each household can provide up to three blogs. You can still provide a kontribution, as long as you have an excuse for late submission.