Beret wearing autodidact and dandified macaroni Jody Barton is constantly strutting along the boulevards wearing a top-hat adorned with a single pink peacock feather. He mumbles and stumbles and spills his aperitif, lunging for the cashmere shoulders of elderly spinsters for support. Opening his richly upholstered coral lips he lets out a stream of improvised poetics targeting the miserablist drones of the utility culture that surrounds us. Exquisite legs, rambunctious shirting and cantilevered shoulders provide ample columns for a temple of the most refined civility. A head which is the finest hollow coconut for the muse to horizontalize in comforte most velvet. Benison.