I’d say I was a fairly typical Londoner of my generation. I was born during the Blitz in 1940 and I’d stay out with my mate Keith until my mum called us in. Happy times. I loved reading Stendhal and Edgar Rice Burroughs, and by the age of 11 I was making a living from writing what would now be called fanzine fiction. I soon became quite well known and used to sit around in pubs with JG Allard. Miserable sod never liked anyone’s fiction but his own. “Tell you what, Allard,” I said one day, “why don’t you just piss off and crash your car?” He never gave me the credit for that.
A fog descended and I found myself going through some gates in Carmelite Inn Chambers and came across an inn called The Swan With Two Necks. “Welcome to Alsacia, Mister Moorcock,” said Friar Isidore. “We’ve been expecting you.” Well, knock me down with a feather, if Prince Rupert and D’Artagnan weren’t sitting in the corner! “Wotcha lads,” I said. Just before I passed out, I could have sworn this fantastic looking woman called Moll Midnight gave me the come-on.
My mum gave me a right telling off when I got home. “How many times have I told you not to do that LSD stuff, Michael?” she shouted. “It does funny things to your mind.” “Sorry Mum,” I said. “I won’t do it again.” I meant it, too, and went straight back to work to write five books that afternoon. Most evenings I went to the pub where I would hang out with Jimi Hendrix. Sweet bloke but not the world’s greatest guitarist.
After I moved to Earl’s Court, I started seeing a lot of women. I don’t know what it was about me, but they all wanted to sleep with me and it seemed rude not to oblige. London was like that in the 1960s. Anyway, for some reason that now escapes me, I ended up getting married to someone called Heather and we ended up having two daughters whose names I am sure will also come back to me at some point.
For the next few weeks I worked really hard, writing about 20 books and editing a couple of magazines in the day and playing guitar for Pink Floyd in the evening. Something had to give and eventually Syd Barrett gave me the sack. “You’re too much of a space cadet even for me,” he said wistfully. He was about to say something else when Sam the Raven flew by. “Give us a toke on that joint,” Sam croaked. “And, by the way, Friar Isidore and the rest of the lads are wondering when you are going to come back to Alsacia. Moll’s also gagging for you.”
The Whispering Swarm in my ear stopped the moment I got back to Alsacia and I soon embarked on a passionate affair with Moll. Her mum Melody also fancied me something rotten, but I swear I never laid a finger on her.
“I think I’m getting the hang of this whole space-time continuum shit,” I said. “The world is basically run by a Supernatural Being who is split between Order and Chaos.”
“Christ,” replied Friar Isidore. “The acid is even stronger than I thought.”
I did feel a bit guilty for two-timing Heather with Moll, so I went back home to write another 163 books. “How do you manage to be so prolific?” a girl called Lou asked as I gave her a Tarot reading. “It’s easy. You just get so out of it that you lose any sense of quality control and type the first words that come into your head. It’s really deep.”
“That’s so cool,” she continued. “Do you think Heather would fancy a threesome?”
“No, I fucking wouldn’t,” Heather yelled from upstairs. “And it’s not a Whispering Swarm. It’s tinnitus.”
I was a bit miffed at being rejected in this way, so I rolled a large joint, swallowed a couple of tabs and gave Sam the Raven a call. “Tell the others I will be back to Alsacia soon.”
“Good to see you,” said Friar Isidore.
“What’s it all mean, Friar?”
“Entropy, entropy. They’ve all got it entropy.”
“Enough of this,” cried Prince Rupert. “We have to prevent the execution of King Charles.”
“Er. Can I give my mate Brian a ring and see if he wants to join us?”
“There is not a moment to waste,” D’Artagnan interjected, his sword at the ready.
“How long is it all going to take?”
“Just another 100 pages.’
“That long?”
“’Fraid so. It’s really bad acid.”
Digested read, digested: You really had to be there.
