The Archives of Spoof

At the request of Bleak Mouse, and since I am rather proud of it anyway, I am reposting below my parody of the literary prison doctor Theodore Dalrymple's seminal "Second Opinion" column which used to run bi-weekly in The Spectator.
Alas, Dalrymple rarely essays this column anymore, devoting most of his written output to demonising venerable authors and books whom he suspects of promoting over-liberalized moral values, you know the sort of thing: "Cinderella is a work shy slattern enslaved to moronic youth trends who demands that everything be handed to her on a magical plate."
But that's another parody waiting to be written. Here is the one I made earlier:

A Second Opinion
Any sane person who works in a prison, as I do, will have been startled by confabulations of young men wearing vicious, ill-fitting gray garments decorated with vertical arrows of eldritch black. This is the poor state of sartorial elegance exhibited by today’s convicted felons, who stalk the same cells once paced by the likes of Oscar Wilde.
Last week, in the prison where I bang my head against the wall, such a specimen of jailed manhood clothed in his cotton quiver came to see me.
“Doctor, I have been stabbed in the chest.” He said in those familiar self-pitying and aggrieved tones common to his kind.
I asked him if he had read A la Recherche Du Temps Perdu by Marcel Proust. My own copy was presented and inscribed to me by the grateful President of Mobowayoland whom I had cured of chronic masturbation many years before.
“No-o-o.” He mumbled, as he spilled more of his own garish and untasteful blood upon my pristine floor. Reader, he did not request a mop and bucket from me with which he could have cleaned up his own sticky mess! How can such a creature, I wondered, provide for the prodigious brood of welfare brutes that he has no doubt sired in partnership with a slumful of anonymous whores, if he cannot even administer to his own flesh wounds? I myself, for example, regularly tend an entire herd of giraffe in my spare time!
So I looked up from my lunch of fresh Lobster and Burgundy to ask him this simple question. But alas, dear reader, he had died.

Comments

[Bleak Mouse]

Brilliant.

At least the fellow's chronic recidivism had been treated effectively.

I'm curious about the Mobowayoland incident, and how Proust fits in. This sort of thing could go a long way towards alleviating international tensions.

[stephenesque]

Dalrymple was always going on about how the youth of today is uncultured, and about his own numerous travels to administer to the sick in Africa - hence the Proust and Mobowayoland.