Mr. Fezziwig’s All-Night Rave

It is that time of year where madness ensues.  The wild pulsating rhythm of harps and fiddles that drives the dance floor utterly mental.  The snuff.  The mistletoe.  Wassail.  Punch mixture.  Handkerchiefs.  Mental.

Since 1835, Fezziwig’s holiday all-nighters have brought merry.  And have turned all unassuming party guests from this:

(Sir) Tristram Stjohn Bexindale-Webb

to this:

Stocious, Legless, Paralytic, Arsefaced

The Good Ear Review wishes you a very high-spirited holiday season.*

* Editor-in-Chief (Sir) Tristram Stjohn Bexindale-Webb begs you to please rave responsibly.

ADVERT: Spirited Away By Spiritualists

Nothing brings about a feeling of uncertainty and uncalmness than a visit from Death.  Do you not agree?

A way to keep death’s diaphanous grip at bay is to eat healthy and fibrous bacon.  This is a known fact.  Most dietary physicians or “Supper Doctors” are versed in the nutrient composites seen in foodstuff.  Most foodstuff.  These doctors can see composites in some food.  And this is helpful to the digestive tracts and bile openings.

They are experts.  They know.  These are facts.

If, however, a loved one has already been spirited away by the Dead-making Man—and you haven’t already captured it in a daguerreotype—you may have an opportunity to visit with them.  Miraculously, you will be able to say “How do you do today?,” see if they need anything in the way of provisions, ask some niggling questions, find out where the reins to the Landau Carriage have gone, or contest their will.

Madame Glaremuccini will guide you through the steps of easing your pain of loss while whetting your curiosity (What is it like on “the other side”?  What’s going on?  Who’s over there?  What is it?  What’s going on over there?  Who is there on the other side?  Over there.  Who?).  The Madame is the finest of spiritualists, as far as one knows.  She does not cheat.  Or fake.  Or steal.  She doesn’t cheat.

A tug, a push, and a pull from the beyond.  Engage in a circle jerk of the most spirtualist kind.

You will be consoled, relieved, and your hands will touch complete strangers.  Which promises to excite and distract.

You can dance if you want to … Writers to watch for in this autumnal season of Autumn.

There is reason to dance—heat from hot, hot summer is at its end and Autumn begins anew … like something new all over again. A wonderful time of year where all beautiful things die by turning a glorious colour of fire and red … bits that were once green shall perish! Tree leaves will fall down (hence the American seasonal term “Fallen”) and turn brown and need to be sorted by gardeners and bin bags. Such beauty! Can you smell it?! I can … smell it all … and then some! Such a fine time. The autumn time of dying and decay and the terror of Halloween when children beat other children in order to steal their sweets or gooses-getting-fat or the only possession they ever valued in this world. Yes. Autumn! Put another penny in the old man’s—

Oh, good—here is the list of playwrights to look for on The Good Ear Review in this autumn-like season of Autumn: Vivien Jones (Scotland), Patrick Kinsella (Ireland), Jaki McCarrick (Ireland), Samantha Randall (England), Heather Jeffery (England), Jacqueline Strawbridge (Ireland), Jack Gilhooley (USA), Phil Emery (England), Annie Zaidi (India). Read them, please. Read all of them. For they will come. Thank you for listening to me.  Not many people do.

— Urchin!  My slippers!

I have to go.

ADVERT: Be Reasonable, Dear Lady!

Dearest Ladies, so much that weakens you must be put to right!

Do you not require a respite from ails that ail you?  Reprieve awaits you with the finest surgeon this land has to offer.  Your spirits will lift, your hysteria will be quelled, and your life will be without the complex dramatics of a Shakespeare “problem play.”  Surgeon Dr. Julius Merriweather suggests the very finest treatments for such lady complaints as:

… Dr. Merriweather suggests hysterectomy

… perhaps a womb removal followed by a sewing up

     … ovary quelling

Corset suffocation rib smooshing
… hysterectomy

Unconsummated hysterical loin yearnings
… hysterectomy followed by sitz bath

Hysterical fancies
… womb reduction with ovary hide and seek

Intermittent 360 degree spinning in place
… heroin, followed by blade

Hysterical hysterectomy
… perhaps an actual hysterectomy may be helpful

So much to be solved with a caring flick of a gleaming blade … and a reassuring smile from a surgeon who knows what’s what in the lady department.

Won’t you visit the Office of Dr. Julius Merriweather, Gentleman and MD?  It is located off Harley Street near where that guy got killed.

Writers coming up this summer season that remains…

Hello to you.  Hello.  My name is Miss Constance Gutkowsky, The Good Ear Review administrator.  Yes…”Miss.”  I am not yet married.  I hope to marry one day, to meet my prince.  Yes, it has been a long wait.  And many disappointments.  My dance card has hardly been filled at socials and cotillions, I admit.  But that should not mar my chances of marital bliss.  Or my willingness to oblige in the duties and responsibilities of wife and housekeeper.  I’m not dead yet, you know.  There could be a change in the wind.  A sea change.  A change in temperature.  A change.  I’m not dead, you know.

Might I point out that summer is nearing its end?  And there are more contributing writers with monologues to come during this summer season.  Before the autumn season begins, summer season must end.  This is true.

Pardon?  Did one of you say “Now I can see why she’s still alone?”  Did you?

Please look for these monologues by fine writers through the remainder of this season of summer:  Georgina Rycyk (UK), Philip Kaplan & Stephanie Walter (USA), James McLindon (USA), Megan Lohne (USA), Claire Balfour (New Zealand), and Alan Stolzer (USA).

The “UK” stands for the United Kingdom, the “USA” stands for the Independent Colony States Apart from the United K.  “New Zealand” stands for New Zealand.

Please, Miss Gutkowsky, might I interrupt to announce to you that tea is ready?  And there is someone on the other end of the tin can with string that would like to speak to you into it.

Yes, McCluster, I shall come forthwith.

Well, I trust you know what to do now.  Read the monologues.  Do.  They appear on The Good Ear Review every Monday, traditionally.  Like it is traditional for a lady to marry.  Sometimes tradition is broken.  I’m not referring to myself but to the monologue day.  Why are you staring at me?

ADVERT: Restore Your Powers, Sir!

To revive oneself and present a quality of life unknown to desperate and unworthy souls, one must imbibe, apply, and immerse in the astounding curative powers of…


A perfectly safe and cautious cure for the daily ailments that ail you such as:

liver complaint, pain in the head, bile, piles, inveterate corruption of the blood, lumbago, chilblains, neuralgia, dropsy, unhappyness, fecal stagnation, dyspepsia, gonorrhea and gleet, whooping coughs, rheumatismic whoops, hysteria, wombinesstitstitus, tantrumania, fits n’ starts n’ stuff, malaria, “snuff nose” debowelment, and derangement of the organs of the stomach and limbs.

Administered in all and every orifice via

Fear not for you shall be cured!
Begin your life anew again once more!

INTERVIEW: Eye to Eye with The Good Ear Review’s Editor-in-Chief Bexindale-Webb and Guest Editor Phineas Gage

… a tin-cans-and-string conversation.

Tristram Stjohn Bexindale-Webb, Editor-in-Chief

Phineas Gage, self-induced lobotomy and railway man

Tristram: Welcome, Mr. Gage.

Phineas: Sir.

T: … Tristram.

P: Tristram.

T: No.  Sir Tristram.

P: Certainly.  Beg pardon.

T: Welcome to The Good Ear Review.  For now.  Not for long.  Guest Editor.  Merely a guest.  Welcome.

P: An honor, Sir Tristram, sir.

T: I see you have your railroad tapping-down-dynamite-spikey-thingy.

P: Yes, well, I call it an apple.

T: Aphasia?

P: Yes.  Among other things.

T: Such as?

P: Surliness, disagreeableness, tantrums, outbursts.

T: Oh my God!  Me, too!

P: Yes, so you can see why there’s a pall at cocktail parties we attend.

T: Not with me, no.

P: At least I have an excuse.

T: Rightyo, Guest Editor.  Guest.  I have none to offer for myself.  Merely years of abuse at Eton and a lack of breast milk.  I have not endured a massive head injury—

P: “Piercing.”

T: … head piercing.  That spikey thingy you have there …

P: My apple.

T: … your apple piercing your brain like that.  For the love of my God not yours!

P: Railway workers endure injuries.

T: … and profound personality changes.  And your first order of business as Guest Editor?  Guest.  For this week only.

P: I thought I’d rail against the staff of The Good Ear Review for starters.

T: Railway?  Haven’t you had quite enough?

P: No—rail.  Abuse.  Holler.  Yell at ’em.

T: Excellent.  Capital.  Start with our urchin.  He’s an easy target.

Please, Sir, I’d rather not …