Explanation of the Jester Project, Chapter 1 – Composition

I claim to be able to explain this to you, just as though it belonged to me, but it doesn’t. If the project has worked in any small way, then this ‘explanation’ will unravel itself. Around half-way through, I’ll be uncovered as a half-baked flounce. I will resemble an apology’s birthday cake in the rain. If we’re lucky, that is. I will be sloppy, sticky, and an overall waste, and we will see that this work is beyond my reach, and thus, successful. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do.


Inzani and I met in August of 2012, and the material included here is from around that time. In September I went to Casablanca with my mother, on holiday. Fans of the Bogart classic would be as impressed as I was, by the boundless filth and chaos of the place. Especially so, if they too were to find themselves narrowly missed by a bucket’s unheralded contents from above, or perhaps the sickly stench of drippings from a fish-cart pedaling on a four-lane freeway, a few hundred yards from a road-accident. The melody for ‘Tell Me’ came from this place, and the words for ‘The Sea’ appeared on the beach at Mohammedeia, a little way down the coast, where children flew from rock walls into the rolling surf in the baking balmy heat.









I like to disappear, now and then, to a remote place, to work on material. People are much more interesting than my work, so if I’m to get any work done I’ve got to get away from all the people. The week following the trip to Morocco I took myself to a windowless cell in a mill in Sheffield, to put some pieces together. Furniture there consisted of one table, one box, a bank safe, some upturned rotting church pews and a pile of twelve sofas – two of them not mouldy.









It rained day and night. Between 10am and 5pm the project in the next room emitted a shattering high-pitched screaming drone, that was the digital audio representation of the Brownian motion of particles detected in a piece of polystyrene. Luckily for me, I did in fact manage to get away with sleeping in this space, and I even found a kettle. I used the nearby toilet facilities for water with no difficulty. But most importantly I was quite lonely, there, and I had something on my mind. Typically, something to do with loss, distance, and being all stoically unwanted. I’m that sort of a melodramatic swooning prat. But as you see, I was having a good time in my way, and besides, I think it worked. Here I made the words for ‘Tell Me’, on my breaks from writing a play about Dracula.

(To be continued, on Friday 4th Oct – COMPOSITION Pt.2)