King Dirt

On Instagram, it’s masks and flower crowns, as people gather to celebrate King Dirt. City parks are like festivals, but with no need for fences, security guards and line-ups. Across the country, a thousand stereos boom and everyone is dancing. Too many for the authorities to stop.

King Dirt! The true ruler of England! The ground that others walk on!
We turn lampposts into may poles!

Airbnbs are cracked open, and their furniture moved onto the street, making space for communal lounging. Golf courses are ploughed by rough dancing and crowds celebrate sky-clad at the sixth hole, because that is the King's number.

No more golf! No more caddies!
In King Dirt's realm, people carry their own clubs!

The dance of King dirt: our clothes are ruined; we’re covered in mud and smear footprints on the floors of fancy shops. We’re pulling fine clothes from the racks and doing jigs on them. Millionaire’s boats are scuttled in marinas – King Dirt has His Majesty’s navy. No more yachts, not while children go hungry.  National trust properties burn, and the fire service insists each one was an electrical fault, that none of them were arson.

King Dirt is a citizen of nowhere!
The last true King of England!

The reality is the edge of the woods, which people have used as a toilet – tread carefully when you go there. The truth is people gnawing on stale supermarket bread as it's the only thing that the foragers have found. But King Dirt’s people dance on.

Background

This story was inspired by some of the weird characters connected with British rebellions, like Captain Swing or King Mob. Or there’s Captain Pouch, who led the 1607 Midland revolt. He claimed that the contents of his bag would protect the protestors, but this did not turn out to be the case. When Captain Pouch was captured, the contents of this bag turned out to be only a piece of cheese.

I’ve read far too many books on folklore recently.

Recommendations

My friend Muffy came all the way from Blackpool to Hebden Bridge for the evening to watch I Saw the TV Glow with me. We were both spellbound by the trailer and excited by what we’d heard. I’m so glad I saw this at the cinema as it’s the best film I’ve seen so far this year.

It’s about two awkward teenagers who connect through their love of a TV show, The Pink Opaque, a Buffy-esque monster-of-the-week series. Maddy gives Owen tapes of the show even though he is so shy he can barely bring himself to talk to her. Both of them struggle with adolescence and their sexual identities.

While the film is about growing up trans, it connected to me for how it evoked being a teenager. It brought back my memories of being a weird child growing into weird adulthood, and the joys of staying up late talking to someone that you connect to.

I Saw the TV Glow is a horror film, but it’s more about a dread of growing older than jumpscares. Halfway through I wondered if this actually counted as horror, but then there was a superb monologue that definitely placed it in that category. I love films (like Gremlins, like Jaws) that deliver their worst shocks by an actor simply telling a story.

There is so much to love in this movie, such as the superb cameos. I adored the musical interlude, where an audience swayed to an intense but quiet performance, like Twin Peaks’ roadhouse, I always longed to have a music venue near me that played fragile music to an adoring audience.

It’s a few months before this will turn up on DVD, and I am looking forward to watching it again. I can’t wait to revisit the world of The Pink Opaque.