Miley Cyrus Disappoints Devil-Worshipper

Funny story written by Erskin Quint

Sunday, 6 June 2010


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Many are the machinations of the Lord of the Flies

Increasingly-controversial hot property and former squeaky-clean tween-idol Miley Cyrus has raised lots of eyebrows and opened plenty of mouths lately, - and now she has plumbed new depths with the hot water she has just got into, writes Roger Bacon, Celebrity Black Magic Correspondent.

For it seems that Miley, who tells us she Can't Be Tamed in her hot new single, has upset a British Satan-Worshipper.

Dr Lynton Faustus, 75, of Marlowe Manor, in West Sussex, is a scholarly scientist who has a remarkable tale to tell, involving the following characters: his ancestor, the original Dr Faustus, the famous Elizabethan scholar and necromancer; the Devil; the Devil's envoy Mephistophilis; and untameable tween queen Miley.

Dr Lynton is a hitherto reclusive scientist and linguistic expert who had been quite happy to remain in obscurity, pursuing his private, arcane studies and publishing his learned pamphlets. He didn't mind that the pamphlets were only read by a few friends and colleagues. Art for art's sake was his motto.

But Dr Lynton began to grow weary of his pure but poor existence. He looked out at the world that he had always rather despised, and he began to want a piece of that world.

"I started to turn away from the values that had always motivated me", Dr Lynton told me at his remote mansion yesterday. "The pleasures of the flesh began to preoccupy me. Money, fame, beautiful women - I realised that I wanted it all.

"Suddenly, my studies seemed dry as dust. I tossed my latest opus - gathering my translations of Maupassant into a collection for the Maupassant Translators Society - aside in frustration and I began to study the exploits of my ancestor, the original Dr Faustus. I read and inwardly digested his life story as told by his biographer, Christopher Marlowe, a contemporary of William Shakespeare.

"I became obsessed. It was as if my ancestor began to live again through me. I could not control what was happening to me. I replaced my orthodox scientific activities with forays into the Dark Arts, into Alchemy and Black Magic. I investigated the works of Simon Magus and Paracelsus. Above all, I began to apply the methods of my ancestor, the original Dr Faustus."

The parallels are striking. Dr Lynton's ancestor was a scholar who became dissatisfied with his life, and sought limitless power and pleasure by means of Satanic Arts. It seems that Dr Lynton followed the very same path in his quest for superhuman enjoyments.

"I read about how my ancestor made a pact with the Devil in order to secure 24 years of unlimited gratification of his desires. He was afforded incredible visions. Most notably, he saw the legendary beauty, Helen of Troy, and was moved to comment:

'Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?--
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.

"From then on, I was literally hell-bent. I wanted to see Helen of Troy. I wanted immortality, fame, a place in The Spoof Top Twenty. I wanted my 24 years of gratification. I was quite prepared to sell my soul, as my ancestor had done, to get this. I no longer cared about anything else."

And so it was that Dr Lynton summoned up Lucifer, one stormy night, with the aid of a magic circle, incantations, and the mysterious rites of the Spoof Writers' Desk. Beelzebub came to Marlowe Manor in the form of a demon, the very same demi-devil who had acted as intermediary for the original Dr Faustus. This creature, whose name was Mephistophilis, appeared in a form suitable for Dr Lynton's mind to comprehend, for its real form would be too horrific for human eyes to behold. The true nature of this creature may be divined from the words it spoke to Dr Lynton's ancestor:

'Why this is hell, nor am I out of it.
Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God,
And tasted the eternal joys of heaven,
Am not tormented with ten thousand hells
In being deprived of everlasting bliss?

"I was playing with fire - the fires of Hell to be precise", Dr Lynton continued. "But, like my ancestor, I had become so far removed from my normal moral structure that it seemed like a natural price to pay for what I thought I might gain. I was a man possessed."

Mephistophilis, in the guise of a man named Mark Lowton, the editor of so-called satire and humour magazine The Spoof, promised Dr Lynton the place in The Spoof Top Twenty that he craved. He also promised visions of the legendary beautiful women that the original Dr Faustus had been afforded.

But here it was that, after having sold his soul by writing an eyeball and points whoring article for Mark Lowton's magazine, Dr Lynton Faustus began to realise that he had made a terrible mistake.

"I didn't read the small print in the contract we drew up. I know it's a classic error, but I suppose in my excitement I neglected to consider this obvious step."

What this meant was that, instead of being permitted to gaze upon the ethereal figure of Helen of Troy, the errant scientist was merely allowed to watch one of current pop culture's in-vogue wild child bimbettes.

Try though he might, to argue with futile passion, Dr Lynton was not able to move Mephistophilis. "I was told that The Lord of the Flies can only work with what contemporary culture has on offer", Dr Lynton said. "'Modern Western man has no place in his heart for the likes of Helen of Troy', Mark Lowton/Mephistophilis told me. And that is why I was fobbed off with the sight of pseudo wild child Miley Cyrus strutting her synthetic, down-market stuff on Britain's Got Talent.

"They did allow a small concession - I was allowed to view a section of The Sun's website where they keep pictures of Page 3 Girls. But it was all a massive disappointment, and it showed me how foolish I had been, abandoning my principles for the sake of tawdry fleshly pleasures. Oh how I regretted what I had done! Instead of the ecstatic statement of my ancestor:

'Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?--
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.

As I watched Miley Cyrus cavorting, in her laddered fishnets, with her faux-lesbian dance troupe, to the accompaniment of her new, sub-Britney lust-stomp single; as I stared at the dreadful, wankarama on The Sun's website - I could only update my ancestor's immortal poetry thus:

'Was this the face that wrapp'd a thousand chips,
And bared her topless jugs for Idiots?--
Sweet Jordan, make me awful with your tits.

"It's all quite hopeless", the chastened scientist told me, as we stood on the terrace and looked up at the velvet sky, where a thin horn of moon hung above the dark bulk of the South Downs. "All I can do is go along with it. I'll be whoring for eyeballs on The Spoof for the next 24 years, and then The Lord of the Flies will claim my soul, and take me to the eternal Spoof, where benighted souls, hoodwinked like me by false promises of fame, fortune and unlimited sex, are condemned to spend eternity writing articles about celebrities, sick facetious joke-stories about murders, or incomprehensible surreal nonsense that will never be read.

"It's a terrible waste. My ancestor was moved to utter this immortal line about Helen of Troy:

'Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies!--'

"The best I can offer is:

'Her tits suck forth my soul: see where it dies!--'

"I'm trapped now. I've already begun a new article about Kristen Stewart. What can I do?"

I was able to offer some comfort to Dr Lynton Faustus, the errant scientist, however.

After all, he's only one of millions who have sold their souls to the empty appearances of contemporary popular culture and its Idiotic Icons.

He won't be alone in that bourne of Hell, in that Parlour of Pandemonium!

We're all going to Hell in a Breadbasket!

Mute? Don't suffer in silence! With the Snodgrass Super Smoke-Signal Set you can be the life and soul of the party! Evoke buried memories of old Western movies! Avoid embarrassing accent incidents! Your audience will get the message with a Snodgrass!+++

+++Please ensure that you do not violate anti-smoking regulations, before any attempt to communicate via a smoke-signalling system.

***Ensure JUMBO's comfort with Trubshaw's Trunk Sheaths. Ideal for British Pachyderm Owners who worry about how NELLIE or DUMBO will weather the UK winters.

The funny story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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