* 200 articles. Two years. Whelk. The best of Upsideclown. Might be reprinted.


18 April 2002
Victor strikes a blow for the ruddy everywhere.

In the realm of the senses the ginger man is king. You may think that he is the pasty pariah of the bedroom, a Celtic throwback with no place in the Mediterranean climate of modern love action. I say PISH! You Enrique fanatics know nothing about true passion. Come follow me on a tour of the minge that is ginge.

Now I'm aware that my point of view is not a popular one: most of this essay will serve as an apology (in the strict rhetorical sense - I don't feel I have anything to apologise for). But I concede that it's time I faced up to my preferences and lived up to my reputation.

For I like ginger - men, children, dogs, cats, possibly even ladies. You see freckles and gauchery; I see statuesque beauty, and the intense attraction of a fiery temperament. But I am alone, and I cannot continue without your support.

Next Tuesday I will change my name from Victor Barnes to Ginger Minge-Ninja (the double barrel adding an overtone of sophistication). I will then embark on an epic journey, starting from Greenwich, London, UK, on which I will service every redhead I encounter. I have an excellent costume, uniquely suited to the task: a furry orange masquerade mask and a black lycra all-in-one (crotchless).

Gingers, I do not intend to hunt you out. Even though my sensory powers are most acute, this would be far too time-consuming. You have to do some of the work by placing yourselves on my route to Dover and the world. No need to hold a sign: the hair will tell me why you're there, right? And don't worry about the unsuspecting redheads who get caught up in all of this. They can only benefit from my targeted promiscuity: go out to see the Cutty Sark and Gipsy Moth, come back with a blow-job. BONUS.

Some of you will be feeling a little left out, and I know who you are. You're the true gingers, red down below. Don't worry, you're OK. You can come too, as long as you can show me proof. No time-wasters, please. You'll just have to drop your pants in the street. This trip is time-critical. So many gingers...

But you don't get anything for free in this world. As you may well imagine, the trip will be very costly, and way beyond my means. Even if I restrain myself to the target areas of the UK, Ireland, North America and Australasia, current projections suggest that I will be on my goodwill mission for the next fifty years. I can do this only through the sustained support and generous donations of the general public.

20 GBP will feed the Ginger Minge-Ninja for a day; 150 GBP will accommodate it in budget to moderately priced hotels for a week. 1000 GBP will cover extraordinary expenditure (clothes, prophylactica, essential sight-seeing) for up to one month. But this isn't for me: it's for the sex-starved millions, the redheads crippled by the debt incurred from necessary expenditure on the enticements of vodka and Rohypnol. Every year in Britain alone tens of thousands resign themselves to solitary hand-shandy due to the persecution of Celtic physical attributes. But like the white settlers in Australia we are in danger of condemning our indigenous peoples to extinction. Ginger recompense has long been overdue. I just happen to be the (wo)man for the job.

Please help. Together we can make a difference.

Ginger Minge-Ninja is a registered charity No. 2764393


This is the fucking archive

Current clown:

18 December 2003. George writes: This List

Most recent ten:

15 December 2003. Jamie writes: Seven Songs
11 December 2003. Dan writes: Spinning Jenny
8 December 2003. Victor writes: Rock Opera
4 December 2003. Matt writes: The Mirrored Spheres of Patagonia
1 December 2003. George writes: Charm
27 November 2003. James writes: On Boxing
24 November 2003. Jamie writes: El Matador del Amor; Or, the Man who Killed Love
20 November 2003. Dan writes: Rights Management
17 November 2003. Victor writes: Walking on Yellow
13 November 2003. Matt writes: Disintermediation
(And alas we lost Neil, who last wrote Cockfosters)

Also by this clown:

8 December 2003. Victor writes: Rock Opera
17 November 2003. Victor writes: Walking on Yellow
27 October 2003. Victor writes: Our Tune
6 October 2003. Victor writes: Sucking face (in a public place)
15 September 2003. Victor writes: You got any ID?
25 August 2003. Victor writes: Blood on the Boulevard
4 August 2003. Victor writes: In (paren)theses
10 July 2003. Victor writes: Island Fling
19 June 2003. Victor writes: Back (back) and forth (and forth)
2 June 2003. Victor writes: 300 clowns, 13 eight-year olds
12 May 2003. Victor writes: The swings and roundabouts of outrageous fortune
21 April 2003. Victor writes: ...just sitting there quietly contemplating suicide
31 March 2003. Victor writes: Victoria
6 March 2003. Victor writes: Relevant experience
17 February 2003. Victor writes: You will eat chips and go nowhere
27 January 2003. Victor writes: A bushy fish for fishy Mr Bush (after Juvenal)
6 January 2003. Victor writes: The Accidental Voyeur
16 December 2002. Victor writes: Gripper goes bang
25 November 2002. Victor writes: Bediquette
4 November 2002. Victor writes: Where have all the spastics gone?
14 October 2002. Victor writes: An Immodest Proposal
23 September 2002. Victor writes: Fastscan masterplan
2 September 2002. Victor writes: Dry Humping Social Club
12 August 2002. Victor writes: Beat the Mongol
22 July 2002. Victor writes: What life is not
1 July 2002. Victor writes: Stupor heroes
6 June 2002. Victor writes: Dry
13 May 2002. Victor writes: Muppet Suite
18 April 2002. Victor writes: gingermingeninja
25 March 2002. Victor writes: Sodomize with Pukka Pies
28 February 2002. Victor writes: Dave's problem
4 February 2002. Victor writes: King of the Aisles
10 January 2002. Victor writes: Here come the decorator gimps.
17 December 2001. Victor writes: Make war, not supper.
22 November 2001. Victor writes: Cough
29 October 2001. Victor writes:
4 October 2001. Victor writes: Green Gauges
10 September 2001. Victor writes: Blind weed
16 August 2001. Victor writes: Snout!
23 July 2001. Victor writes: You're not going to put this in a clown are you?
28 June 2001. Victor writes: What is a droll?
4 June 2001. Victor writes: Burt Pakamak
10 May 2001. Victor writes: Board to Death
12 April 2001. Victor writes: Tricolon with anaphora?
22 March 2001. Victor writes: Point of View
26 February 2001. Victor writes: Goth's Dinner
1 Feburary 2001. Victor writes: Les Miserables
4 January 2001. Victor writes: Flat-packed furniture
14 December 2000. Victor writes: Deliverance
20 November 2000. Victor writes: Bottomry: Exorcising Ghosts
26 October 2000. Victor writes: Body Art
2 October 2000. Victor writes: Disney must die
7 September 2000. Victor writes: Ice-cream in Offworld
14 August 2000. Victor writes: I like sweets that taste of medicine
26 June 2000. Victor writes: I've seen the future, and it's feathered

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