More Tales of Resident Lunatics

Readers, as my grim and miserable days in this grim and miserable asylum all follow the same grim and miserable blueprint, there is a paucity of interesting things to write about in this electronic diary. The only thing of any note that happened today was that the madman in the room down the corridor, who insists he is not insane and is actually a time-traveller from the year 2035 where a terrible pandemic has wiped out almost all of humanity, apparently disappeared mysteriously from his locked cell. Doubtless he has merely died of neglect and the wardens have disposed of his body in acid vats in the basement to cover their tracks.

To give you further evidence of the tediousness with which my days are filled, during teatime today, I found myself engaged in conversation to one Fyodor Myshkin, a somewhat dull young idiot who was impounded in this madhouse for his curious behaviour and worldview. However, I confess that when I spoke to him I found his hopelessly naive attitude and inability to understand the politics of the day actually highlighted many of the flaws and hypocrisies inherent to modern life. I found that this so-called madman's innate goodness and child-like questioning alerted me to many of my own prejudices and the depravity of our society. As is so common in this place, I again began to consider that we might well have things back-to-front and that it was not this simple-minded lunatic who was wrong in the head, but rather the rest of the world with all its ghastliness and horror. He quickly provided me with a definitive answer however when he began whooping like some manner of chimp, then pulled down his trousers and defecated in his bowl of soup.