We understand from a source close to amateur satire webzine The Spoof! - an internet site owned by a mysterious, Murdoch-style oligarch which relies on sweated skitting from an army of unpaid writers - that a hitherto genial and tolerant author has run amok and lambasted the work of a fellow artiste for no reason at all.
funwithwords, a female writer from the fledgling 'culture' of the New World, has launched an inexplicable and savage onslaught In This Story upon a recent article by respected English eccentric and genius Erskin Quint.
The transatlantic tirade has caused much consternation in the bohemian quarters of spoofdom, where it is feared that something of a colonial backlash, a barbarian bombardment, a Stateside storm might be afoot.
We spoke to Erskin Quint yesterday via telegram, cleft stick and runner. Quint - a reclusive figure at the best of times - has been staying at an unknown location in Peru in an attempt to recover from the unwarranted damage sustained by his rare and complex sensibility.
"I returned from a brief holiday expedition in the Bhutanese foothills to be confronted with the worst critical hatchet-job I have seen since they mauled Stravinsky at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in 1913", Quint recalled.
"Of course, it was more the staging than the music, more Diaghilev and Nijinsky than Stravinsky, that infuriated the Parisian audience, but let not that mar the comparison", Quint continued, inscrutably.
"In the case of my story Tush! Miley Cyrus' Vagina Rubbed Up Wrong Way By Brass Rubbing Group!, I am not one to overestimate the artistic merit of articles about celebrity genitalia, but I flatter myself that I did at least attempt to be literate and original.
"I covered the vagina in question in 25 different ways in the story - that is, I came up with 25 different vaginal names or synonyms - and I managed to work in the Devon village of Broadwoodwidger, the art or indeed craft of brass rubbing (with its tantalising associations with the non-reproductive sexual practice of frottage), and Lundy Island, the only part of British soil ever to have flown an Islamic flag.
"Of course, there is no allusion to these things in the critique. It is a mere damp or empty squib that fizzles out, after brief mention of my "indiscriminate bolded portions" (which themselves are a parody of the tendency of popular journal articles to embolden their text in order that the less-discerning reader may better comprehend their subtleties).
"Indeed, what can be said about a supposedly-critical piece containing such deathless prose as:
"'I think it's best if both of us voluntarily relinquish the reigns of the vagina beat'
"'she said rubbong (sic) her temples'
"'"My God," Spoof! fellow writer, funwithwords [fww], exclaimed prior to indicating a need for "some 'shrooms.'
What, as I say, can be said, apart from:
"'Please render into English.'
"The Celebrity Vagina Story, like so many others, is a mere period piece (d'you catch the pun there, dear critic?). But, 'tis with us, and it demands a treatment.
"Those of us who would tilt at it in our own way might well fail, might well be open to criticism.
"But let that criticism at least be literate, considered, and in possession of the virtues of decent writing.
"Or we are in the throes of Barbarism.
"But perhaps that is the point, or the purpose, of all this?"
And then Quint left us.
"I must go now. My secretaries - delightful twin ballet-dancing 19-year old sisters imported from Asuncion - have prepared for my delectation a tincture of opium, which I intend to imbibe whilst enjoying their performance of the Sacrificial Dance from the Rite of Spring."
We can only imagine the scene.