Dear Black Widow,

Re: Come To The Sabbat


I was unfamiliar with your ''proto-Black Metal classic'', Sirs, before chancing upon it quite accidentally whilst perusing the youtube channel in search of a fascinating clip from the David Attenborough documentary ‘The Living Planet’ featuring a deadly spider pitted in unreferreed combat against a scorpion.

I have now listened to the ‘occult offering’ several times, and, although impressed by its infectious melody and the indisputable prowess of your woodwind instrumentalist, find myself facing various obstacles as regards acceding to the Mestophiles clandestine rite personal appearance allurement itself.


The logistics of actually attending The Enemy Of Righteousness' ''meet and greet'' may, I regret to advise, prove troublesome, especially taking into account your presumptuous proclamation that ''we’ll be as one within the hour''. Although the precise whereabouts of the impromptu Fallen One ''flash mob happening'' has not been specified, I fear that, unless it is in the immediate vicinity of my home in Southbourne, asking me to get there within the next sixty minutes may be pushing it somewhat, especially bearing in mind that I’ve just sat down to watch an episode of Hornblower after which I had promised to take my wife Jean to step aerobics, as is her inclination of a Wednesday. If, however, you are able to give a rough indication of how long the Chief Of The Demons intends to stay (I am put in mind of Ted Rogers, who had to leave the grand opening of a 'refurbed' Abbey National in the early 1980's a mere seven minutes after cutting the ribbon, in order to make it to the launch of the Findus Lean Cuisine range where he was booked as the after-dinner speaker, much to the disgruntlement of all assembled), it may be worth my considering showing my face a bit later.

As well as my wife's certain non-attendance I will also be unable to ''bring my kin'' given that my son is currently enjoying dinner with friends in Boscombe and is unlikely to curtail his lasagne in favour of a Leviathan-helmed congregation at a mysterious clearing.

As for daring to help you raise this Astaroth chappie, I may be able to assist, but before I commit myself totally it will depend on how much the fellow weighs, whether or not he is lying or sitting down, and how many people will be aiding us in the hoisting. If he is particularly portly, or if you are proposing that it is just you and I that will conduct the bete noir elevation, depending on how high we are required to ascend him, then I hope that you do not mind that I might have to bow out on account of my ongoing sciatica.

Forgive me also for stating, Black Widow, that I am not entirely comfortable with your insistence that I discard my clothes and come on foot through streams and fields and moonlit moors, my body soaked in secret oils. It is a bit nippy out and I do not savour the prospect of a cross country ramble through the wet, where there may be nettles without sight of a dock leaf in the pitch black, clad in nothing but classified lubricant and potentially drawing unwanted attention from the police force. I suspect, Black Widow, that I am not so dedicated to the preparatory ritualistic aspects of your assembly as may be many of your diabolic throng, however, as a gesture of goodwill may be willing to lightly douse my jowls from a bottle of something that I presume is perfume and which must have been purchased by Jean some time ago given that the identifying label has perished probably due to the damp conditions in our ensuite, and drive ''off-road'' to the neo-Pagan bash in my pyjamas with the heating off.

I am slightly confused as where you physically are at this moment though, Black Widow. Were I personally to promote a Devil-endorsing enclave I would do my utmost to avoid confusing potential acolytes as to its specifics, and yet your incantation, ‘’Come to The Sabbat, Satan's There’’ as opposed to ‘’Come to The Sabbat, Satan's HERE” implies that you have not yet made it to your own blasphemous gathering, as would normally be expected of its host.

All points considered, Black Widow, I think it best that I remain at home for the rest of the evening, which I hope will not be a great loss to you as frankly I would have just been making up the numbers. Although I do not entirely approve, I hope that the soiree goes without a hitch and would recommend that to avoid further confusion all future unholy communions (including directions, times and admission prices if applicable) be publicised by the ''create an event'' option courtesy of the popular networking facebook website.



Derek Philpott

P.S. If it is any consolation, you might be amused to learn that upon first exposure to your hopeful conjuration, Jean misheard the chorus as ‘Come to Russ Abbott’ and, having seen him on what may have admittedly been an 'off night' in Summer Season some years ago, she did say that if pressed she would have willingly preferred to have instead spent that long night in the company of the necromancer

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