Rat, Ben, Graham, the motion-activated Robot and I were filmed at the Rendezvous by local volunteer (and seditious scrivener) Lewis. Many thanks!
Fassbinder's Third Generation awaits, so I'll let the photo-captions tell the rest of the story...
(If you could fuse an animatronic Bryan Ferry (in his Ronald Coleman phase) with a Tussaud's mould of Dave Phillips (and you know they've got one, stashed in some back room in Blackpool), you still wouldn't have Graham, but you'd be awfully warm...)
("The space between the nose and mouth is called the philtrum..." Not normally where one finds a microphone. TLASILA alone make contact with such human embryonic merge-lines, and Jürgen Habermas can kiss our collective's collective arse. Pa-Pow!)
(A still from a discarded title sequence shot for our 1966 Techniscope epic Blood Valley of the Forlorn, retitled Hellbillies in a Haunted Record Mart for the Northwestern drive-in circuit... Ben's always looked best at a 2.33:1 aspect ratio...)
(Rat sucks the last bit of radiant energy from the Rendezvous sarcophagus; he's his own bleedin' radio spectrum!)
(One of Lewis' more inspired compositions... Rat's become quite the longhair!)
(So perverse of Rattus to wear the flannel here, but perhaps Andrew Young's antipodal spirit lives on in the Falestra duodenum. Er, mixed in with a few undigested patty melts....)
The Robot is immobile, but far from inactive... On the soundtrack, a shocking din.)
(I've always been a womb man... Here, I'm nestled between random radio blare and Ben's 0.1 Hz waveforms. Felt like home...)
(The overhead light catches GM's mug just right... I still look like a bit of a cunt, but what can one do? No, no, actually this was Rat's fault - he failed to include the rider requirement for a doctor qualified in administering both B-12 and C-4 injections... Can't you see that I'm under considerable stress? Mother, they're trying to crucify me!)
An extract from Lewis' video has been uploaded to our MySpace page.