Welcome to our new e-press kit.
Read, print perchance, and inwardly digest. There will be questions later but scant few answers.
With hindsight Dolly’s twitching buttocks should have forewarned me.
“Inquisitive reader, hindsight, is a beautiful thing. With hindsight Dolly’s twitching buttocks should have forewarned me. Shortly after Alice’s recooperation for No More Mister Nice Guy, Dolly started to oscillate wildly in full view of the Master. Several times he threw a wary glance in her direction and she his. I was sensing a brutal attraction between them. People around me edged away slightly as they sensed my pain. Schools Out began and the crowd roared their approval, Dolly became increasingly agitated and then as Alice, sword in hand, introduced party time, the world for me fell apart.”
“Dolly sensing the smell of the crowd and with fire in her belly launched herself at the stage and at Mr Cooper. She fell desparately short but was scooped up by a kind security chappie and returned to me. Battered and slightly bruised ( I noticed a trickle of blood from her hind quarters those same hind quarters she had so badly scarred as she frolicked in the sheep dip “int top field” last summer) we had a final caress and then suddenly she was gone. Dolly, with fire in her one good eye (the canker in her other eye had not cleared up despite frequent applications of Nurse Gladys Emmanuel’s Patent Ovine Canker Unction and the odd Guinness eye bath) propelled herself stageward at the self same time that Mr Cooper, weapon in hand, was within her eyeline. She was brutally skewered like a sheep on a sword and Alice’s eyes were full of awe as she died painfully by his own hand. He, just like those killer whales you see on the telly, toyed with her now heavily deflating corpse and used her callously to burst all of the rainbow coloured balloons that proliferated at that point on the stage. Her lifeless body stained by a hideous melange of blood, confetti, talcum powder, dollar bills and wool. His dastardly deed done he propelled her flaccid carcass through the putrid air to the rear of the stage where she was hideously trampled under foot by Mr Cooper’s despicable henchmen. Frantically my eyes scoured the stage for hers but cadaver eyes upon me saw nothing. Dolly was dead, slain by Alice Cooper. “J’accuse !” I roared. The encore is now just a distant memory but as Cold Ethyl / Cold Dolly struck up Alice scooped up Dolly’s limp frame and cradled her gently in his arms as he serenaded her. “She’s cool in bed she ought to be cause Dolly’s dead” I mouthed in the direction of her assassin. Was that just a hint of remorse I saw flit across his steely blue eyes?”
“I’m struggling to type here allow me a moment to reflect will you ?
Three things flashed through my mind, Dolly had been murdered, were there witnesses ?, would I get the chance to confront her killer ? and had anyone taken any decent photos ? Whoops sorry four things.
The show over, I took delivery of Dolly’s lifeless body from a passing superfan who had retrieved her trampled remains from the stage and numbly, hardly speaking I exited the Arena crestfallen in search of the Sickbus and some solace from an enormous alcohol fuelled imbibation.”
“Alice seemed quite taken aback when all 13 of us traipsed into his dressing room. We queued up (yep we are experts at that) as Alice signed an item for us all. I got our mutual strangulation photo from last years pow wow signed, others got tshirts and cds signed and I even saw a Christmas Card and Birthday Card get the Cooper treatment.
“You killed my sheep Dolly”.
As we all hovered round Alice for the obligatory team photo I seized my chance. I sidled crustacean like up to the man and just before the flash flashed I hissed in Alice’s nearest ear. “You killed my sheep Dolly”. Its fair to say he was slightly taken aback by this strange course of events and tried to edge away. Fortunately his way was blocked by fellow buskateers. He was trapped so I persisted “You killed Dolly my inflatible Ovine in Bournemouth last week – what do you have to say for yourself !” “Aah it was you” he riposted. “I didn’t understand the significance of the sheep until after that show when Pete (Freisen) told me a particularly disturbing story about a sheep on the edge of a cliff – you’re sick !” There was an enormous flash and we were once again (do you remember this photo from last year don’t you) partly blinded. Being called sick to my face by Alice Cooper I took as an enormous compliment (anyone in or out of their right mind would, wouldn’t they ?) that obviously made me grin because what could have been an ugly international incident was instantly diffused. Mr Forsyth sensing my relief suggested to Alice that maybe he might like to use the murder of Dolly instead of the Chicken incident the next time he met the press. Alice graciously declined saying “O no I think I’ll leave that for Marilyn !”
The 2002 Clones
The 2009 Clone
H – ” I watched part of the Theatre of Death BD last week for the first time since it came out. I had forgotten just how prominently you’re featured!”
If Dolly wants to go, she’ll go..
The 2010 Clone 1
Nick – “Back at the Roundhouse queue there were now a large number of demons, ghouls, mental patients and the odd witch. We were so impressive a reporter for CNN came all the way from America to film us. And of all the Sickthings she could choose to interview she managed to pick probably the craziest two of our group. Jollyjon was of course waiting with Dolly the sheep and the reporter must have asked him whether he would be throwing Dolly on stage, to which he replied, serious as ever, if Dolly wants to go, she’ll go. Then she interviewed Paul with his light bulb and flashing teeth who it so happened was just about to spit blood on Sparky.”
The 2010 Clone 2 – Bob Ezrin
The 2011 Clone & the Ally Pally Epic Fail
The 2012 Clone aka Sheep Gordon
The Victoria Line into Retirement – promise
Fin – verrily we approach the ovine #apotheosis
Sheep the faith.
In Memoriam : Gird up your loins and be terribly brave #nationofovine Dolly the much loved ovine of this Principality (the Sheep Gordon variant) has left this mortal coil, she has succumbed to a combination of tempus fugit and seam decay brought on by a recent dousing in ice cold Welsh water. After a short service int top field cloning shed she was laid to rest with due decorum. We ask ewe to think of Dolly, at this time, as she slips away on her final journey Council Refuse collection operatives permitting. “I don’t want to see ewe go…” All hail the ovine #apotheosis.