[ Issue 13 ]

Emily Bronto is definitely one of Nostradamus’ many fans

Allow Bikwil to bring to light the enjoyment to be had from Nostradamus


Fizzgig in this issue introduces us to an acquaintance whose main claim to fame is his Nostradamus-like predictions.

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From the Back Verandah — Fizzgig


I met a really lovely bloke a few months ago who claims to be the current reincarnation of Nostradamus. Appropriately enough for these seductive millennial times, he calls himself “Our Ladies’ Man”.

When I asked him whether he writes prophecies in enigmatic quatrains, he replied, “Not on your rhymin’ Nellie. People today are as suspicious of guru half-truths as they are of political promises, to say nothing of statements that require any personal effort of thought. I tell it to ‘em straight and plain, taking Hollywood as my model.”

“Would you care to make a few predictions for my Bikwil readers?”

“How many would you like?”

“Half a dozen’ll do.”

Here they are, then, just as he declaimed them to me. I offer them in their bare simplicity, without further comment.

Whenever schismatic beasts arise, the avenging eye of Vulcan must needs eclipse the mirror of reality.

Armageddon will chastise their titanic frenzy, but not before the centurial microbe devours the edge of time.

Have you heard? it's in the stars: next July we collide with Mars.

Pope springs eternal in the transformed messenger from the inner pyramid of Babylon.

The ph balance of fiery hair and golden breastplate, having seven times cursed the ancient mysteries of the friend’s hammer, will then be taken up in Vesta’s alabaster purging cloud.

The Charleston will never last.

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