S O C R A T E S 57 was a doctor.

I leave the country. Full body search on exit. Gary Speed God Speed Ken Russell. Schiele reduced to a box of matches reduced to a fridge magnet. Better than hanging on a toilet door in a posh restaurant Shirley Maclaine for the ladies, The Duke for the gents It's over before you know it. Mowing the lawn in December. Plague of copyists in Savannah. Why? The spy reports and emails me evidence. Says Sorry to make you angry. Angry? Down to the last detail. It has no class no sense of design. It's - throw the material at the wall make it stick and copy. Can't you tell the difference? Who runs this academy in Savannah? Shoot the suspects. Line 'em up. Slap the culprits round the face point out the errors of their ways.........dislocate their fingers. Skewer their eyeballs and burn over the bar-bq. Illustration makes you sick. I couldn't get an interview a few years back at the University of Savannah they advertised for a full time lecturer of illustration in The Guardian newspaper in England. I applied. No they said I wouldn't be considered as I have no educational qualifications. No degree. Can't interview you. Can't consider you. New Yorker? The Washington Post? Esquire? Your students write to me seeking enlightenment...........No good. No qualifications. No provisional licence. Sorry no degree. You are not a Professor. You are not a Doctor. You are not qualified. I make a living. You don't make a living. Who you kidding? The plagiarism is terminal. Copy something else you slug brained cretinous clams. The Professors of Savannah should be sacked, trousers pulled down and buttocks caned.   Should be discouraged. Should close the shop. Everything must go. Identity plundered. Looted. It's all been done before, Klaus said. Not worth a light. It's only illustration.