GANTOB blog

88. FEVER DREAM (by ANDREW)

Dec 20th, 2023

This pivotal post comes from Andrew. He has been a regular source of inspiration and support for the GANTOB movement since August 2023. This piece takes a nice spin on a couple of konversations that Andrew and I have had over the months. And it involves another Scottish band which, going by the name of the record label they established at the start of their kareer, have a kurious affinity with a certain letter. And it’s an unwelcome return for TB, an irregular visitor to the GANTOBverse recently.

Over to you Andrew before I give too many hints…

GANTOB loved The Delgados.  Today was Saturday 12 August 2023, a day she thought would never come. It was a long time since the activities of the “thin men” – and woman – had ceased in 2005.

She was sitting, shivering, poncho-less in the pouring rain, but that wouldn’t dampen her spirits.  As the first strains of No Danger rang out, she forgot about other distractions and found herself transported out of the bandstand in Kelvingrove Park, Glasgow and into another world altogether.

As the thunderous applause died down, she tuned into a conversation to her right.  A young couple were debating the meaning of a pamphlet they had found folded into a paper plane earlier. GANTOB chuckled and shuffled a bit closer as it dawned on her whose writings they were discussing. Perhaps her efforts were slowly paying off.

The real Delgados concert at Kelvingrove

At the end of the concert the band returned for an encore. They thanked the fans for their enthusiasm in the face of some atrocious weather, going on to say that there was someone they needed to thank for the push that got them back together. “Could everyone put their hands together for The Benefaktor”, they announced in unison…

GANTOB’s heart missed a beat. Had she heard that correctly? Surely not. The Benefaktor had said he was putting all his efforts into supporting her writing. She had shared her wider influences to keep him engaged, but how he had stumbled upon The Delgados? What did this mean for her and Little Grapefruit?  Had he moved on to bigger things? And hadn’t The Foundation Doktor called him “the thin man”?

She was itching to tell the couple beside her it was her pamphlet. If The Benefaktor was shifting his attention and funding, she would need all the support available. However, she knew that would risk blowing her kover, ripping the fabric of everything she was trying to achieve.

She was bursting for a pee but dreaded the chemikal toilets. She also worried that she had missed the subway home.

Suddenly, light flooded in, and she sat bolt upright, warm in bed. No poncho required. She knew The Benefaktor was somehow influencing her daily decisions, but this was something new. She had not even known The Benefaktor (or TFD) back in August 2023! His subterfuge was infiltrating her memories now, playing on her sleeping mind. Time to get on the front foot…

ANDREW

20 December 2023

Demokratisation is the process of handing the blog over to you, the reader. There needs to be a link back to characters from the GANTOBverse, or at least mentioned in previous GANTOB writing.

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!
87. DEAR GILL (by SKELLBERT’S PICKLES)

Dec 19th, 2023

In this poetic post, loyal GANTOBer Skellbert’s Pickles provides useful detail about one of the GANTOBverse’s quiet but key characters: Bronwyn ______, née Gosling. Watch out for further revelations involving Bronwyn over coming days.

Over recent weeks, in unrelated work, Skellbert’s Pickles has created some rather wonderful art out of other GANTOBverse/ Curt Finks pieces. I didn’t want them to go to waste, so I have used a couple of them to accompany this post. If you’d like to find out more about the original Curt Finks sketches, you’d better get hunting around the text in Little Grapefruit’s trip to Vienna, or the picture in Stu’s Dr Who-themed post to download GANTOB pamphlet X11. But, as usual, that’s a GANTOB diversion.

Over to you Skellbert’s Pickles…

It’s all about the numbers. Since 1680, the ornithologically minded have been keeping a registry of Goose aktivity at King’s Lynn, with the late 20^th century portion largely being kompiled by Curt Finks’ ringing kompanion Bronwyn Gosling.

The Eschaton will be Lentilised (a good day to dahl). Sketch by Curt Finks (1997), dekorated by Skellbert’s Pickles (2023)

Bronwyn is numinous behind our numerik scenes, taking five guises, often the subjekt of appropriation.

Her Keredigion black sheep form’s voice appears throughout the defining ambient house moment ‘Chill Out’, and with a recent stand-out appearance in re-enacted big-screen form at the Skool of Death, alongside Dolly and Elvis. This Bronwyn inkarnation has been known to mooch down to Cei Newydd where she is in kahoots with the tribes of the porpoise.

As a Blodwyn Pig: when all is said and done, Bronwyn surely infiltrated some slide guitar sounds into our erstwhile young ancients.

In her preferred Brent Goose form, Bronwyn kontributes to the energising of that ley line as she traverses the Atlantic between Iceland and Mathew Street. She is kurrently escorting a member of the Bowlingham Clan, who recently leapt into the Mersey, headed for Jura and beyond, Will Bronwyn lead this little one to Brent Goose Rock or to more Baltic klimes? Or even to Nordkapp karrying sub-sub-optimal Elvis vibes in her heart kourtesy of a street performer she encountered near Liverpool Central station (which was almost enough to send the author running for a one way trip to the bottom of the Mersey, even after surviving the great swell of the Krossing in monokrome and hi-vis animalistic form the previous night).

Unreferenced so far, Bronwyn flocks with Swallow-kind to reach the equatorial realm of Bioko, formerly the Fernando Poo of great eskatorial renown. I detekt little of import here. It seems Bronwyn has a streak of nostalgic yearning for 70s kosmiche, and perhaps some as yet undisklosed nuklear frissons with Curt. Indeed what kould be hotter for kategorising minds than precision kataloguing in that dark Fenland mud? It is diffikult to tell from afar whether Nora were aware, or even part of digging this nature scene, a feathered love pyramid, if you will forgive my awkward stretching of a geometric metaphor.

The married Bronwyn _________, living inkognito, in polite society.

Soot-eye needs a Sweep. Sketch by Curt Finks (1997). Decorated by Skellbert’s Pickles (2023), including Snail House, Sofia, Bulgaria

It kould be time to give Bronwyn another kall. She has more to report than the kurrent state of foliage in East Anglia. Is she visited by Curt Finks ghost? King’s Lynn Curt, a poor man’s dream of kloth and boards, writing by numbers.

By Skellbert’s Pickles

19 December 2023

Demokratisation is the process of handing the blog over to you, the reader. There needs to be a link back to characters from the GANTOBverse, or at least mentioned in previous GANTOB writing.

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!
86. KRISTINA BRUUK’S MANUSKRIPT (by STEPHEN)

Dec 18th, 2023

Bound by the rules of Demokratisation(*), Stephen has taken a deep dive into GANTOB pamphlets X12-14, and found Kristina Bruuk lurking, as ever, plotting her come back. And, though Stephen submitted his post many weeks ago, we can see a nice link back to Hendrix, as mentioned by William E Drummond in his post a couple of days ago.

Over to you Stephen!

Doomed Finnish singer-songwriter Kristina Bruuk looks out of her apartment window to a snow covered and freezing Helsinki. She picks up her smartphone and searches for her name again. The same references she knows so well get listed on Google but perhaps it doesn’t find everything she thinks. There may be people on Instagram and TikTok that are talking about me right now and what about private messages, and for that matter, private thoughts. She consoles herself that this private sphere is where she is most alive and where her life and unreleased album, Heaven or Helsinki or Girl From Nowhere, truly exists. Her life of artistic commitment over every other consideration and the perfection of her album is assured. She knows that real life can never compete with the imagination.

Perhaps, she thinks, it is time for more details of her story to emerge. The fans need more fuel to keep them interested and she might gain new followers as well. They will need to be young, then she can live even longer. Should she leak another song online or claim a liaison with some famous and now long dead musician. Her night with Jimi Hendrix or the time she supported The Doors. Or she could start a rumour of a memoir that was lost by the publisher she submitted it to. It was handwritten and of course there was only one copy. It was later found by an unknown but very obsessed Bruuk fan in the late ’80s and just a few photocopies were made for safety only (not for sharing). Either by error or after they died, one of these was found kept safe inside the pages of a children’s encyclopaedia in a charity shop. Its importance was noticed and the finder submitted it to a Finnish national archive However, since then no record of it exists on the system. It presumably waits to be discovered inside a misplaced dusty box. How tantalising this would be, the story of my most active and creative years available to all with a little luck and searching. Now all I need is a title that would really bring it to life and more powerful than any words I could ever write.
She switches off her phone and relaxes with her cats, content (for now) to allow those fantasies to burn bright. She will continue to sacrifice the real for the far more satisfying imaginary. Thus she will live forever.

STEPHEN RENNICKS

18 December 2023

Image from Kristina Bruuk’s Twitter/ X page

(*) Demokratisation is the process of handing the blog over to you, the reader. There needs to be a link back to characters from the GANTOBverse, or at least mentioned in previous GANTOB writing.

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!
85. IMPOSTER SYNDROME (by THE TILLERMAN)

Dec 17th, 2023

In another entirely unanticipated development, I received an email late last night from The Tillerman.

The Tillerman has helmed The KLFRS for longer than I have been in existence. I have always been in awe of The Tillerman. But, equally, I have always been incredibly grateful for the input they provided at the start of the GANTOB project, and at points throughout. I am, indeed, relentless and exhausting!

This is a deeply personal blog from The Tillerman. Get your kerchief out – or should that be a bandana?

Over to you Tillerman…

Have you ever had an offer that you couldn’t refuse, even though every cell in your body screams out that you should?

Have you ever said ‘yes’, terrified of having to live with the consequences of saying ‘no’?

Have you ever had the best job in the world and gone to work every day with a resignation letter and a grenade strapped to your chest?

Out of the blue, living with imposter syndrome became bearable on July 28th of this year. An inspiring author made an eloquent proposition and needed permission and validation. I replied that they needed neither from me, knowing that THE IMPOSTER had nothing to give.

This author then miraculously proved my point. From inception to creation to publication, GANTOB the author, GANTOB the project and GANTOB the book went from milestone to thrilling milestone, and then, a wonderful thing happened. People came along for the ride.

GANTOB became an inspiration. A shining supernova of an inspiration, a demonstration that there is nothing more powerful than an idea whose time has come.

GANTOB was relentless.

GANTOB was exhausting.

GANTOB was the mirror reflecting what THE IMPOSTER wished they could bring themselves to do.

Now, THE IMPOSTER could see the power of a kind word.

The power of a nurturing suggestion.

The power of a ‘yes…and…’

Dozens more benefited from the strength that GANTOB’s inspiration allowed THE IMPOSTER to summon. A legacy that goes far beyond the book, the blog and these 400 words.

THE IMPOSTER recruited people that could do everything that they couldn’t. And then they waited. Waited for plans and schemes to bubble to the surface, with nothing to add but a green light. The same green light that had got THE IMPOSTER into this ridiculous position in the first place.

But then the shift came, and the switch turned the lights red. Everywhere. It was all THE IMPOSTER could see now. The daily torture of the commute to work illuminated, there and back, by more and more red lights. Stop. Stop. STOP.

So they stopped.

THE IMPOSTER was now running on fumes. Not enough to climb the hill, but maybe enough to fashion a petrol bomb.

It’s right that everything ends on December 31st.

The day before everything begins and everything began.

2024 is a new year.

THE IMPOSTER will paint it red.

If they’re lucky, they’ll take some others along for the ride.

The Tillerman

17 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!
84. TELSTAR or The Landlady? (by WILLIAM E DRUMMOND)

Dec 16th, 2023

Today’s blog is by William E Drummond. It meets none of the rules for the GANTOB blog, but rules are there to be broken, especially when you are one of the authors of 2023: A trilogy. So we have allowed it.

It takes us back to a discussion with Paul Simpson earlier this month, and then further back to Telstar, a song that hit the Billboard Christmas Number 1 almost 61 years ago (the UK number one that year was Brenda Lee’s Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree). I didn’t think that you would want to wait for the anniversary (22 December) to read it.

Over to you William…

Have you ever shot your landlady dead?

On the evening of the 6^th of December 2023, I asked Paul Simpson of The Wild Swans…

‘What are lyrics for?’

Paul Simpson’s inferred answer was ‘Some pop songs are so great, they do not need to have lyrics made from words sung by a singer, one’s imagination just creates the abstract lyrics while hearing the song, like Telstar by The Tornados.’

I agreed with Paul Simpson.

But his answer triggered some thoughts…

What follows are those thoughts…

While I guess most of us would be in agreement, that our lives would have been well spent, if we had died at the age of 27, and we had achieved in those years what Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix or Amy Winehouse had done.

I mean they must be looking down, pretty pleased with what they made in their allotted time.

Maybe it gets a bit more difficult when, the would-be protagonist, has suffered from depression and then maybe taken their own life, like Nick Drake at the age of 26. But now almost 50 years after his death, Nick Drake must be feeling some sort of reward, knowing that in his short life, he produced three of the most revered albums ever – even if hardly anyone gave a fuck about them, in his own lifetime.

But harder still for Billy McKenzie, taking your own life at the age of 39, and now, 27 years later, still knowing you had only ever made one record that is truly celebrated, as in Party Fears Two.

But…

I want to take things up a few notches.

For the year leading up to February 2020, when I had the first of my major brain seizures, I would regularly stand at the same bus stop on Holloway Road, London, while waiting for the 393, to turn up and take me back to my flat.

But…

This bus stop on the Holloway Road was next to 304 Holloway Road, as in where Joe Meek had his recording studio…

As in the Joe Meek that had recorded the record Telstar by The Tornados, as in the record that I had heard in the Ayr Skating Rink back in 1962…

As in the moment that I had my mind totally and utterly blown to pieces by a piece of music like it has never been before or since.

Now any Joe Meek fanatic, like myself, will tell you, this 304 Holloway Road, is where this Joe Meek shot and killed his landlady before shooting and killing himself.

And this is the question I struggled with every morning as I stood and waited for the 393, and my brain waited to have its first major brain seizure…

Would I be willing to shoot and kill my landlady before doing the same to myself, if I could have only made a record one fraction as mind shattering as Telstar by The Tornados when heard in the Ayr Ice Rink circa 1962?

Most mornings the 393, would turn up before I had to come up with an answer to the question. And other mornings, I would just dismiss the question out of hand. But there was the odd morning, where I would arrive at the conclusion, it would be worth the shooting and killing of your landlady and then turn the gun on yourself, in the knowledge it meant you could have created one of the greatest pieces of music to have ever been heard by any nine-year-old girl or boy in the Ayr Ice Rink in 1962.

William E Drummond

Written Friday the 15^th of December 2023

Published, for the first time, on gantob.blog 16 December 2023

Mr Drummond’s post was contributed as part of #Demokratisation – handing the blog over to contributors other than boring old GANTOB, The Benefaktor, The Foundation Doktor and the rather more popular Little Grapefruit and Angharad.

There are still a few slots on the blog available for the remaining days of December.

People with a blog accepted during December will receive a copy of the book of the blog, including their contribution and that of Mr Drummond, as part of a very small print run.

The only conditions are that the blog should relate to the GANTOBverse and be exactly 400 words. Further details at gantob.blog/book (ignoring the deadlines).
83. WHAT IS GANTOB? (by GRAHAM)

Dec 15th, 2023

Today’s blog goes back to the earliest days of GANTOB. I was finding my feet, planning what turned out to be a busy summer. I had been intrigued by the Penkiln Burn pamphlets that had arrived that spring with my orders of Bill Drummond books from Alimentation, and wondered about producing my own to promote my own projekt.

Seeing Graham’s posts about The Harmonics, with his pamphlet that ended up in the copies of “What Is Harmonic?” box available for sale, I decided to give it a try. Over to you Graham

I had only intended to write one blog for the GANTOB December “Demokratisation”. If accepted, that was all that was required to receive a copy of the next book. However, when I went to submit my post – which links some GANTOB characters back into the plot of The JAMs’ 2023: A Trilogy – I realised that I had unknowingly communicated with GANTOB by email months before.

Back In August I had submitted my question for the first book by Twitter message. I hadn’t spotted the connection at that point. But now, at the tail end of November, I opened up my email to submit my 400 words in a Word document to the email address 100percentvinyl2@gmail.com. I typed the address into search bar, and there it was: An email from June, from Gillian (no surname). It was titled “What is Harmonic?”:

“Graham”, it read, “As a fan of The KLF I was interested to read about your recent discovery of the ‘What is Harmonic?’ box, with contribution by Bill Drummond. Now, I am not in the market for the box, but wondered if you could send me the pamphlet that you produced – Word format would be best. Terrific that you and The KLF archivists have made this discovery. On another note, have you read The JAMS’ 2023: A trilogy – quite an interesting read now that we’re actually in 2023. Bye for now, but keep up the good work”.

I sent Gillian a copy of my “Who Were The Harmonics?” trifold pamphlet as requested. It was from a period when I was scratching around in the minutiae of Bill Drummond’s Penkiln Burn books and pamphlets. It was an exciting and productive time, unearthing a stash of the Harmonics box, which you can still buy from the Eastside Projects shop, and making a series of other discoveries from the earliest days of Penkiln Burn.

Credit: Eastside Galleries

But back to GANTOB. I didn’t hear anything more from Gillian after that, except perhaps a reply saying “Ta”, which I would have deleted. Five months on, and realising this connection, I feel the excitement of discovery again, a bit like getting my hands on The Harmonics’ box and hearing the recording of their song. GANTOB is there, right in the heart of that email, and I hadn’t spotted it. I don’t think that this reveals her identity, and I hope that she includes at least one of my blogs.

Graham

15 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!

Cover photo, of What is Harmonic? box is also from Eastside Projects website
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.