| Chapter Three |
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| The Modern Era....... And Thoughts For The Future |
| Many people still take Pylons for granted. In fact, a small, sick minority actually protest about Pylons, claiming that if you sit under a Pylon for three weeks without food or sleep, you will begin to turn into a mutant. Luckily for us, these kind of people are considered freaks, rarely have friends, and are therefore easy targets when taking their dogs out for a walk. Pylon Fandom is growing all the time, and the advent of the internet has given rise to whole new Pylon Communities, opportunities for followers to swap Pylon pictures, share their favourite Pylon anecdotes, arrange Pylon Tours etc. (Incidentally, arranging a Pylon Tour can be very tricky, and it wasn't my fault that the last one went tits up. It was raining and I sensed a total lack of enthusiasm from the rest of the group). But what does the future hold for our friend, the Pylon? I went to see Tony Blair to find out and was suprised by some of his revelations. "We're gonna make them bigger so they take up more space, we're gonna paint them bright fucking pink and we're hoping to build the first Pylon Theme Park by Autumn 2003," he said. My mate said he might have been drinking, but he certainly gave Pylon Fandom something to chew over this winter. And so we finish off back with Alistair Gordon Pylong. What are his thoughts on the greatest achievement of the Twentieth Century, and the role he played? "I'm proud, of course I am," he freely admits. "The Pylon - she's my wife, she's my cook, she's my mistress, she's my whore, she's my........no, sorry, I'm actually talking about my Wife there. What was the question again?" This article is respectfully dedicated to the memory of Bob, who died peacefully in his sleep when his electric blanket caught fire and slowly burned him to death. |
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