Allow me to be frank at the commencement.
You will not like me.
The ladies will be envious and the gentlemen will be repelled.
You will not like me now and you will like me a good deal less as we go on.
Ladies, an announcement: I am up for a challenge, all the time.
That is not a boast or an opinion, it is bone hard medical fact.
I put it blunt, you know.
And you will watch me as I do so, and beg for it.
Don't.
It is a deal of trouble for you and you are better off watching and drawing your conclusions from a distance
than you would be if I got my hands around your throats.

Gentlemen, Do not despair, fear does not take place in my vernacular,
and the same warning applies.
Still your forked tongue till I have had my say.
But later when you weep – and later you WILL weep.
I shall expect it of you and I will know if you have let me down -
I wish you to weep with my image rattling in your skull.
Feel how it was for me, how it is for me and ponder.
‘Was that shudder the same shudder she sensed?
Did she know something more profound?
Or is there some wall of wretchedness that we all batter with our heads at that shining , livelong moment.’
That is it.
That is my prologue, nothing in rhyme, no protestations of modesty, you were not expecting that I hope.
I am simply myselfand I do not want you to like me.

So here she lies at the last.
The deathbed convert.
The pious debauchee.
Could not dance a half measure, could I?
Give me wine, I drain the dregs and toss the empty bottle at the world.
Show me our Lord Jesus in agony and I mount the cross and steal his nails for my own palms.
There I go, shuffling from the world.
My dribble fresh upon the bible.
I look upon a pinhead and I see angels dancing.
Well? Do you like me now? Do you like me... now?