but at least he sweats alone,
no-one around to catch him out
by tweeting pics of sodden shirts,
no-one to tell him how the case is going,
which papers today have decided
he should be cut loose. He turns on
the telly, forgets it was tuned to the news:
sees a protesters' cavalry clashing with
police in a country whose ruler's
son bought one of his houses,
throwing an extra three million in
for a few of Jeff's signature sweeteners.
He switches it off. He doesn't want all
these reminders of the way his world
has started shrinking. Pours more whiskey,
thinks about the better times:
late nights at Haviland, with the man
whose statue he unveiled, one island over
from the place where one masked monster
took a fall to keep the other faces hidden.
Masks: they used to joke about them,
safe in their unhooded anonymity,
their Very Kubrick Christmas parties.
'It doesn't need to be a costume…'
What else has he ever worn?
Inspired by the information about Mr Inverness (whose security detail, according to Popbitch, had a much more amusing codename for him) contained in this episode of Podcasting is Praxis, and its sources