Hatastrophe.

 

I took my hat, a bottle with some vodka in it, matches, lighter, to a lonely, spooky spot, as you can see. It would have taken some explaining had the Police stopped me. The intention was to end up with something like a 1970’s Hipgnosis album cover, the hat hovering – in flames.

 

 Unfortunately, even though the label clearly stated; “Keep away from fire”, the darned hat refused to do more than smoulder. Matches gone, vodka burnt off, lighter empty, everything that could burn was burnt except for the hat.

It’s like the sequence in ‘Goodfellas’, where the corpse in the boot of the car starts banging on the boot. Or the end of a cheesy horror movie, the vampire springing back to life, just one more time before the credits.

As it was, the charred hat had to come back home with me and not even Guido is going to model this one for me.

So I had another go.

This time no more Mr Niceguy.

 

 

The hat?

That's that.

Neil Harris

(a don’t stop till you drop production)