The preternaturally alert reader will instantly recognize the decor of this panel as a quintessentially English bit of inkery lifted whole from the Yellow Submarine, that snarkalicious confection crafted by Messers Dunnings, Coates, Edelmann et alia. Their Anglo-Canadian-Teutonic vision of the archetypical English garden party, Pepperland, is shown here being hijacked by a band of desperate Snark Hunters in need of shelter from the heavy weather of Fit the Fifth.
In truth, there is little to recommend in this
Fit to anyone in need of some jollies to lighten the burden of another
long day working for the Man and all that. F5, as some Snarkistanis dub
it, is a place where there is a gnashing of teeth and a smiting of
thighs in the very best tradition of the sadomasochistic hallucinations
and delusions of St. Anthony and his Victorian spiritual descendants,
those lecturers at certain educational institutions who were condemned
to the spiritual tortures of instructing the Boschian progeny of the
upper classes in all matters animal, vegetable and mineral.
proof positive of all of the above, let us note that Lewis Carroll, a
mild-mannered man noted for his personal gentleness, saw fit to end this
Fit with a semi-Swiftian comment upon all of the above. This novel
friendship between the Beaver and the Butcher is cemented not by the
altruistic bonds of selfless love but by the grotesque imperatives of
Fear and Loathing!
You old cynic, Mr. Carroll! You’ve been
hobnobbing too much with that old boojum-lover Mr. C.L. Dodgson, whose
years of teaching at Christ Church had taught him to regard his young
charges as at worst, nasty, brutish and short, and at best, nasty,
brutish and short from the right sort of families.
Which is why
this illustrator thought it might brighten up the place a bit if we had a
little bit of Pepperland and the Fab Four smuggled in to do the honors
for the Jubjub’s Song which closes this Fit. Come on, Messers Dodgson
and Carroll, it’s not as bad as all that, all you need is love!