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For those of you who don’t already know and follow @BadgerMister on Twitter, I absolutely fucking scintillate. So do yourselves a favour.

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Be warned, though.

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Mister Badger, by popular request, comes clean

Hello Badger People!

My fanbase – that is, my Mum and her friend Ethel (hi Mum, hi Auntie Ethel!) – have pointed out that I haven’t written anything since 1791, so here I am.

PeriodicJubilantAntbear

I need coffee first, though.

My last few posts were supposed to be anecdotal, but the writing of them was more a matter of revelation. I’ll resume the anecdotes below – I left myself on the point of throwing myself off a cliff – but I needed to take stock. This post won’t be long, but it’s at the heart of the weirdness. At the point we’ve reached in the story, I was more or less batshit crazy and behaving in consequence. Continue reading

Mister Badger comes clean – strange encounter

Yesterday, I said that I’m writing this blog because I can’t make sense of the passage from the past to the present. I don’t know whether that sounds weird. It feels weird. Since I started the antipsychotics, the way in which I used to think is slipping away from me. If the things I’m talking about don’t make much sense to you, they don’t make that much to me, either.

This is supposed to be a post about how I left Edith and started a new life with Charlotte. Yet suddenly the exercise strikes me not quite as futile, but as if it were about someone else. The strange encounter is Badger with Badger. What the fuck. Continue reading

Mister Badger comes clean – the day the world turned dayglo

Once upon a time, a few years back, I took a powerful synthetic cannabinoid and made a choice. And then all hell broke loose.

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Strange, but true.

It’s been pointed out to me that my last three posts are confusing. This, of course, is a stylistic device, and corresponds to my mental state during the period under consideration. But actually, it’s more than that. The truth is that I’ve never really understood how I came to be where I am today, in this life, in this relationship. I can’t make sense of the past, or of the passage from that past to this present.

This, I think, is why I’m writing this blog. Continue reading