recited Live on the radio in the Netherlands in September, 1999:
Georges and the Dancing Dish and Sausage Vision.
Over Mountains and Seas and some Oceans and some Land, came an Ageless, slovenly, grape-stained Man. He had learned a special skill that would set Him free, baking cakes and breads and small past-er-ies! He sought to set sail with His baked goods on the Ocean blue, a fortuitous and triumphant deed to do, but He was tricked out of His goods by a coniving Platapus, named Dexes. Even though He lived forever, this is when He should have died. He squashed ripe grapes against His tunic, brand new, this resulted in delicious and fermented residue. He guzzled it down and moved into a Cottage, this went on for many years and it cause Him brain-rottage.
Georges was a man, slovenly in a grape stained tunic. He had lived for some time in a Cottage in an enchanted Forest. The Cottage, which was built a long time ago, and had figured prominently in the development of the Cottage Cheese Industry, had a magnetic rooftop. The roof affected Georges in a most peculiar manner – he would have visions of a beautiful, golden Fish speaking in a British Accent, or of crazed conniving Platapi (to use a form of pseudo-Latin). Worst of all, when He had almost organized a personal history out of the encircling madness, He would return to the Cottage and have his memory, once again, erased. Understand; Georges would have a bank of memories stored up… then when in, under the roof, the Magnetic-field would cause a reaction in the Subatomic system of Georges’ brainstem, and cause His aura to fragment into bits of light… thus His memory would lapse. He would sit beneath an ancient gnarly tree, eating kippers and capers out of tins with Hygienic hardwood. One day – during his usual sub-arboreal routine, he was visited by creatures the likes of which he had never seen: a Dish and Sausage – from the Island of Slaam, appeared to Georges in a desperate attempt to evict him from the infinite repetitiveness of returning to the Cottage, forgetting everything and then having to start from scratch. These normally inanimate items, had prepared an interpretive dance for Georges. The Dish began spinning wildly, while the Sausage, dressed in his native attire and dripping flavorful juices, recited a short epic Poem depicting the nomadic adventures of an ageless, slovenly dressed Man from the dawn of time. Much to the chagrin of and not for lack of trying, the Dish and Sausage failed to have an impact on Georges. He returned, more befuddled than normally to his magnetic-topped Cottage. Four-line Poem to sum up: He eventually leaves the Cottage, you see – and sailing upon a small Skiff, lands upon an Island where he performs his one triumphant deed – this time plagued by visions who mean to disrupt his concentration: a Cottage in a Forest of endless Anon. Rising up from his stupor and wielding his hardwood, Georges grabbed the Dish and upon it, with precision, dissected our poor, dear Sausage – much to his gastronomic delight.