Making Love to His Tonic and Gin

It appears that 2005's ookiest mystery has been solved, more or less. They finally unmasked our old friend the Piano Man, who I first mentioned here, and who you'll recall was found soaked, wandering the shores of a beach in England, apparently mute, unidentifiable, and uncommunicative except for the intricate drawings of a piano he made, and a virtuoso piano performance spontaneously offered to the staff.

Right, so after months of silence, a nurse walks in one day and says, "Are you going to speak to us today?" And he says, "Yes, I think I will." In the movie version, this is where his eyes turn red and lasers shoot out of his mouth as the hell-beast bursts from his stomach. But in real life, he just admits that he's really rather rubbish at playing piano. The hospital clarified that the virtuoso piano performance was really just him hitting one-note over and over. This might sound like we were fed a big swallow of BS, but the hospital staff is a very sophisticated contemporary composition audience, and by golly, they know a virtuoso performance of John Oswald's Aparenthesi when they hear it. Big media philistines.

So he's a German and he's a big faker or something, but this can all be fixed in the editing room says I. Hell beast, people.

Thanks to Ogged for bringing this to my attention and further distracting me from the fact that I'm moving away in 2 days. The dog's been staring at me accusingly all afternoon, making me feel terribly guilty about the whole thing, and then I accidentally called him Kriston, which just opens up a whole big can of psychological projection worms. Oookay, distraction time. How many pairs of shoes do we think we can fit in the suticase? Seven?