A warning to pre-concert announcement-disregarding audients eager to audit  the down-coming American tour of Norbert Fragg And The Gigue of Snarky Guitarists: James “Biggles” Bigglesworth II, a delusional descendant of the eponymous but fictitious World War One flying ace, has determined to put Fraggish sensitivities, dare we say sensibilities, to the test.

    Currently the Quentin Crisp Professor at Oxford’s Queen’s College for the Continuing Impersonation of Dame Edna, Biggles will disguise himself as an invisible, but no less invidious, if not insidious, March Hare. “I intend to adopt the simulacra of the Do Not See Me Rabbit, last manifested in the liner notes of the Heathrow Toll concept album, Slick as a Pict’s Wicket.”

    Norbert’s stated preference for fluffy bunnies over photo-retentive, hand-grasping fans must be taken in context, Prof. Biggles says. “Due to peculiarities in their digestive system, rabbits, unlike fans of Mr. Fragg’s music, are incapable of vomiting. Rabbits are also proficient coprophagists: in order to derive maximum nourishment from their immediate environment, they dine upon their own do-do. This would explain, of course, Mr. Fragg’s newest release of previously ingested material from his pre-hare-raising period, the Incipient Caecotrope’s Guide To Thing Dismal.”
   
    Prof. Biggles intends to don his bunnysuit (with its flannel up 'n down 'im,
a little trap-door back aroun' 'im, an' some cozy little footies on his mind), adopt a mannered but respectful shit-eating grin, and use his hard earned pay to purchase a ticket to the Snarky Guitarist’s Pragmatoxia Benefit Performance in the famed American seaside Methodist hog butchering hamlet, Asbury Pork.
   
    While Mr. Bono is chatting up world leaders to eliminate Third World poverty, and Mr. Jagger is chatting up the music press to eradicate benign neglect of his solo efforts, Mr. Fragg is carrying on the fight against pragmatoxia, the discreet, if not discrete, global epidemic whose victims develop a startling inability to see, hear, taste, smell, touch and otherwise sense anything that doesn’t exist.

       Once seated at the performance, Biggles will disregard all articulate announcements until Mr. Fragg mounts his stool. Then Biggles will make several loud thumps with his hind quarters that will trigger stereopticon cameras hidden in his elongated ears. “My purpose is not merely to extract a keepsake that I will ruminate upon for ten to twenty seconds before selling on Ebay. My research is funded by an unnamed American defense contractor, who is intrigued at the use of fannish behavior to distract, slap, smack, stab, prick, pluck, touch, tickle, tweak, torment but not torture–no, never torture. The Americans ALWAYS draw the line at that.”

    At the conclusion of his researches, Prof. Biggles plans to join the music industry. “I’m fascinated by parthenogenes, creatures that reproduce by screwing themselves, and the record industry has the single greatest concentration anywhere! I’m mixing the demo of Gecko and the Bunnyman, even as we speak!”