copy > paste > copy
Now, hang on a minute, before we go further we need to look backwards and forwards. As it’s a new year and a new January (2024, to be precise), it’s good to know what we have learned with PINS, and what we should look forward to.
Sometimes you can’t give local orders, especially superlocal orders, without not being there, in that locality. It helps to be somewhere else. Don’t worry, it’s all explained here. Below, some images to help you keep yourself superlocal.
Order needs an architect! Last time we were worried about orders . But a newly discovered photocopy in the archive tells us that we have moved. So: we do know we have moved. But what have we moved? And how, or where?
Here are some photocopies to help you know where you have moved. Good luck. And remember: Cliff Richard never got as far as Wakefield.
In rule six of PINS we admit to having no clue to the objectives. The original photocopy – where we found the rules – underlines this point so it must be important, but we are not really sure why.
Do you remember the Beginning? No? Never mind. We need to find someone, to tell the C.O.s to do something. Remember what or who the C.O.s are? No? Never mind. Let’s imagine we found someone. And now, let us peruse the images below and prepare to DO SOMETHING.
Consulting what rules we have, I can now tell you. Here is what we do. We do something.
(But what to do: AKA “Disappear in front of his brother, in a PUFF of SMOKE.”)
We must take our luck where we can. Hence a dreamlike visitation of Wrocław’s Krasnoludek in East Lancashire. Victorian streets that cling on in the gloaming, spaces where schools and factories were, pubs that made way for motorways. We need a better narrative. Myths are needed to make us feel noticed, or carefree, again.
There is good and there is evil. In between, somewhere, is the duck.
These words, spoken by Accrington artist and visionary Tim Whittaker, come back to haunt us in these ribald, brittle, stretched months of 2020 and 2021, where ghosts of the threshing floor rise to meet us.
These photocopies hark back to another, happier time and maybe presage a third.
We just need to locate the duck.
You have to act. Burn them, commune with their indolent, witless, stolid spirit. Or photocopy them endlessly to erase their presence.
Maybe you can draw on humanity’s creative commons to give you another answer. It’s what the internet is for.
I’m staying in my lane. To be precise, Hollins Lane. But that stops in Baxenden. Where then?
There is good and there is evil. In between, somewhere, is the duck.
These words, spoken by Accrington artist and visionary Tim Whittaker, come back to haunt us in these ribald, brittle, stretched months of 2020 and 2021, where ghosts of the threshing floor rise to meet us.
These photocopies hark back to another, happier time and maybe presage a third.
We just need to locate the duck.
You have to act. Burn them, commune with their indolent, witless, stolid spirit. Or photocopy them endlessly to erase their presence.
Maybe you can draw on humanity’s creative commons to give you another answer. It’s what the internet is for.
I’m staying in my lane. To be precise, Hollins Lane. But that stops in Baxenden. Where then?
There is good and there is evil. In between, somewhere, is the duck.
These words, spoken by Accrington artist and visionary Tim Whittaker, come back to haunt us in these ribald, brittle, stretched months of 2020 and 2021, where ghosts of the threshing floor rise to meet us.
These photocopies hark back to another, happier time and maybe presage a third.
We just need to locate the duck.
You have to act. Burn them, commune with their indolent, witless, stolid spirit. Or photocopy them endlessly to erase their presence.
Maybe you can draw on humanity’s creative commons to give you another answer. It’s what the internet is for.
I’m staying in my lane. To be precise, Hollins Lane. But that stops in Baxenden. Where then?
What does the original matter when you’ve got a copy that cost more? It’s much more fun to be in Doggerland, Doggerland under Sea, where nothing ever matters, to you or to me.
