The GoldenEye of the Yellow God
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There's a secret Rare-built hideout to the north of Twycross Zoo,
There's an old, forgotten farmhouse near the town.
There's a bored, sarcastic Welshman who reads Scribes,
and does Tusk too,
And Kenneth Lobb forever gazes down.

He was known as SirSlush2 by the 'subs' at Khatmandu,
He was dafter than they felt inclined to tell,
But for all his foolish letters, he wanted to go one better,
Until Pipsy the mouse smiled on him as well.

She was nearly two-point-one, and plans had begun,
to celebrate her birthday with a ball,
He wrote to ask what present she would like from SirSlush2.
They met next day as he sat there in the park,
And jestingly she told him that nothing else would do
'cept for the beta of the new game, Perfect Dark.

The night before the dance, SirSlush2 seemed in a trance
They chafed him as he played with Pipsy's car.
But for once he failed to smile and he sat alone a while
Then went out into the dark beneath the stars.

He returned before the dawn, with his jeans and t-shirt torn,
A gash across his forehead dripping red.
He was sent to bed right away, and he slept throughout the day,
And a worried Pipsy sat beside his bed.

He awoke at last and asked, if they could send his PC through,
She brought it and he thanked her with a bark.
He bade her search the hard drive, saying 'that's from SirSlush2'
And she found the beta ROM of Perfect Dark.

She scolded SirSlush2, in the odd way that mice do,
Though both her eyes were strangely big and wet.
But she wouldn't take the ROM, and SirSlush2 was left struck dumb,
With the Rare game that he'd chanced his life to get.

When the ball was at its height, on that still and tropic night,
She thought of him, and hastened to his site.
As she crossed the Twycross square, she could hear the dreamy air
Of a waltz tune softly stealing through the night.

The door was opened wide, with silver moonlight shining through,
The place was wet and slippery where she trod.
An ugly knife lay buried in the head of SirSlush2,
T'was the vengeance of designer, D. Botwood.

There's a secret Rare-built hideout to the north of Twycross Zoo,
There's an old, forgotten farmhouse near the town.
There's a bored, sarcastic Welshman who reads Scribes,
and does Tusk too,
And Kenneth Lobb forever gazes down.

By Chris Allcock
(With apologies to J. Milton Hayes - and SirSlush2)