Editorial

The Wind of Change

My psychiatrist tells me that my expectations of red carpets, a full-blown carneval parade including elephants, knife-juggling monkeys and a jousting tournament held in my honour amidst rivers of wine and cries of ‘Hosanna!’ from the spectators are symptoms of what she calls ‘delusions of grandeur’. But dash it, I am well within my rights in being disappointed by the lack of festivities to mark this paramount occasion we are now faced with.

But I forget my manners. The observant reader of this publication would have gathered from the previous issue that the commander-in-chief and founder of this publication, Mr. Cuddles the cat, had to step down from his post in order to fully pursue his passion of waging war against boilers. As the astute observer might have realized, this leaves this very publication exactly one head editor short. So without further ado, I present to you the new head editor of Flipside: Me. Feel free to take a moment to let the news sink in before commencing acts of unbridled merriment and joy.

Finally, I’m very well aware of the general code of conduct dictating that when chap ‘A’ has been doing something for awfully long but because of reasons cannot keep doing it any longer, the chap ‘B’ who is going to be doing the doing of said thing from thereon is expected to ‘say a few words’ to mark the occasion. Well, here they are:

Spedunkle. Mumpet. Snark.

Knöckelgeradeschausewesen.

They’ll have to do.

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