blankspace.gif
The Journal of Literary Satire | Hastilly Written & Sloppilly Edited
Syndicate

RSD | RSS I | RSS II | Atøm | Spanish

Shop
Bea!
Support Submit
Submit
From the Y.P.aRchives Fun, Fickle Fiction (for Free!) Fact, Opinion, Essay, & Review Spectacular Features, Calendrical Happenings, Media Gadflies Poetry & Lyric Advice, How To, & Self-Help Listicles Semi-Frequent Columns Letter from the Editors Disquieting Modern Trends Interviews Interviews with Interviewers One-Question Interviews The Book Club Media Gadflies Calendrical Happenings Roasts Correspondence (Letters To and Letters From) Letters from Y.P.R. Letters to Y.P.R. Birthday Cards to Celebrities Pop Stars in Hotel Rooms Shreek of the Week of the Day Polish Facts: An Antidote to the Polish Joke The Y.P.aRt Gallery Illustrious Illustration Photography Photomontage Graphic Design Logo Gallery What's Up with That? Fuit Salad Nick's Guff Vermont Girl The M_methicist Daily Garfield Digest New & Noteworthy Contributors' Notes Et Cetera, Et Cetera, Et Cetera The Y.P.aRchives
Creative
Commons License
This journal is licensed under a Creative Commons License and powered by Movable Typo 4.01.
Crockpot!
© MMIII—MMVIII,
Y.P.R. & Co.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Fiction
Liam Gallagher Talks to John Lennon's Ghost

(What’s the Story) Morning Glory?/Abbey Road mashup courtesy The b3ta Challenge: Extending Album Art.
Last fall, the Oasis frontman claimed to be haunted by the ghost of the late Beatle. Herewith, an unofficial transcript of conversation between Liam Gallagher and John Lennon’s ghost.

Manchester, England:
(Twang of sitar.)

L.G.: Oy, ’ello? Who’s there like?

J.L.: It’s me, you scrotey little git.

L.G.: Wot, like God, yeah?

J.L.: You stole my music, you sad, little plonker.

L.G.: John, John-O, Johnny Boy, is that you, mate?


J.L.: No, the Walrus, you twat, who else?

L.G.: I never stole your music like, I am a fan, really, I am man, know what I mean?

J.L.: Fan me dead arse! You are a scummy little wannabe, twat, knob, gobshite, fuck-cabbage, arse!

L.G.: That’s a bit rough mate, innit?

J.L.: Ohhh please, every bloody song, every one is a rip-off, man! Oasis my arse, you little prick.

L.G.: No, no, no, they are tributes, like, a fromage, like, you know what I mean?

J.L.: Homage, you cabbage.

L.G.: Yeah, like one of them mate, it’s all about keepin’ the vision alive, innit?

J.L.: I was on drugs, you wanker. I don’t know what the hell I was bloody saying.

L.G.: See, I do drugs like, we got that in common, you know what I mean?

J.L.: You are a tosser.

L.G.: No mate, you can’t say that, please don’t. You’re my hero, like.

J.L.: Tosser, tosser, tosser.

L.G.: I can’t take it no more! Please, please, don’t look back in anger John!

J.L.: Fine, fine, I’ll bugger off. But before I go, what the fuck is a Wonderwall?

L.G.: Dunno mate, not a bloody clue. That was Noel’s idea.

J.L.: Tosser.

(Twang of a sitar.)

L.G.: Fuck me. That was bloody brilliant.

Dave Oprava lives in Wales and writes, because he is scared of what will happen if he stops. He only ventures into reality on occasion, but lives on his Web site at www.davidoprava.com.