Eoin emerged from the potting shed late last night, clutching a number of crumpled sheets of paper. He stood outside the kitchen window and, having eventually smashed the glass with persistent knocking and therefore attracted my attention, he shoved the papers through the window. With a final yell of “They must all know the truth!” he fell over backwards and passed out.
I have released the full transcript of these papers to the world’s press, and, for the sake of clarity, reproduce them below, word for word. This, therefore, is Eoin’s version of the events of the night of 1st February, the book launch
“This statement is intended to explain in full the events surrounding the launch of ‘The Inadvertant Twin’, that have caused such media outrage and embarrassment, and the present outstanding charge of wasting police time.
Sharon took on the responsibility for co-ordinating events, while I sought frequent inspiration in her potting shed, following in the footsteps of my two great role models – Roald Dahl and Philip Pullman. I have perpetually been lost in my new world, and when Roald Dahl said the average writer needs a stiff whiskey on most days, to help him rejoin the real world, he wasn’t lying; but I am glad to say I have always kept my need for stiff whiskeys under control, and any allegations of alcoholism are a gross misrepresentation of the truth.
We organised the launch to the very highest standards, with the able assistance of one of Ireland’s top event management firms. We specially chose a guest list that would enrich the launch, and one that would especially share a love for children’s writing. However in practice, the last few days have been a blur. I always seem to sleep well, especially on aircraft, where I seem to fall asleep the second my head hits the reclining seat, and I don’t wake up until we touch down. On occasions I have even been known not to wake until long after we have left the airport. On this basis I would like to stress that both of the recent arrests at airports were accidental, and I was cleared of all resulting charges.
I have for the last several days, despite the extraordinary level of attention from the world’s press, felt confident, together and on top of things. I have taken to reading the bible, and I find it’s wisdom a great source of inspiration. The bible of the following incident, (which Sharon fortunately was not aware of due to her hatred of reading tabloids, and doubly fortunately because she had already rescued me from the eerily similar incident in a Belgian jail), was seized mistakenly by an airport security guard in Mogadishu, who believed that as a Christian carrying a bible into a Moslem country, might be on the brink of carrying out some sort of terrorist atrocity. Admittedly I did have a bag full of tiny foil-wrapped Zanzibar pineapples, which any security guard could have mistaken for hand-grenades.
On the event organising side, it was very daring that Sharon would initially choose to decorate the reception with German cadavers, and to serve live swans as the main course for our grand reception. She has since claimed repeatedly that the caterers made a mix up, and I would like to believe her. Ordering a swan and a cadaver or two is careless, but thirty-two swans and eight cadavers cannot be an accident. That worked out at exactly one swan for every guest, and one German cadaver for every four guests, which in the Kabbalah is a sign of…well I can’t say it here.
I have discovered that ever since I met Sharon I have felt a new calmness and sense of spiritual fulfilment. Through Sharon I have found God, and through God I have found His word, especially the line (from the Littlest Hobo) ‘there is a voice that keeps on calling me’. My faith in God stood me in good stead at the Dublin reception, but the London reception tested it beyond the reasonable limits of belief in all omnipotent powers, causing a sudden existentialist crisis and deep despair.
It started when I began to suspect that our ‘exclusive’ invitation of the cast of Coronation St and two ‘Hello’ photographers, had been infiltrated by the cast of Eastenders, and an ‘Ok’ photographer. I decided to climb the latticework for a better look at the hall. Brian Capron distracted me with his outrageously unfunny attempt to mimic choking (no-one else was laughing – and quite a few looked worried) when the latticework, which was very poorly constructed, gave away. Everyone rushed to grab me, and I was forced to fend them off with loud admonitory assertions from the bible and some large pieces of ice, as the mood of the crowd, I suspect due to excessive media-quality cocaine, and too much champagne, had turned rather ugly.
In all of this the true meaning of the launch has become lost. We all gathered to celebrate a wonderful work of children’s literature, and in doing so we have all ironically lost our innocence. Except perhaps Sharon, whose innocence can grow every day with the help of His good word. In innocence she is able to look at the world through the eyes of children; see what they see, feel what they feel, and behave as they behave.
I take the broken swans and the pieces of melting ice as a metaphor; that the artist yearns to be free, but even as he reaches for immortality itself, divesting oneself of the bounds of this earth are an illusion that soon breaks and melts in the physical earthly heat of one’s hand. I take it as a sign that I must return to my sculptures and body parts, my original calling. But I see Sharon’s love for event management, her uncanny power to make me sleep and dream, as a sign that we should continue to collaborate, and walk onwards through the valley of artistic despair, and to the elysian fields of contemporary artistic immortality. Thank you for your sincere attention.”
Artist and Critic