A new breed of apathetes.

This great masterpiece would have remained lost to the world had it not been for the valiant efforts of P.O. Glubscrotum, editor of the St Cleves Literary and Garden Review where the M.S. was found buried. The author now resides at Lake Alice where he protests his sanity ("I'm not Insane! I can prove it! Look I've slashed my wrist.") and moans quietly in Welsh.

As non-members of the T.A.L. obviously fail the second requirement they cannot be considered true apathetes. For those louse-infested dung worshippers who doubt my word this is DOGMA (Paper Bull) authorized from the highest authority (Pge 879 J.E. Giscins Dictum on Ornothological Ontology; Pub 1921. Pge 71989 Leopards Boys Book of Adventure Vol III or lurking somewhere in Janes Book of Ships.)

TAL non-participants can redeem their sins honorably in one way; that is battle, yes! We (us L. G. Apathy League) take the (probably) unprecedented step of challenging (or not challenging) the TAL to indifference (or anything else) at 60 yards (or any other distance) at Parliament (or anywhere else) April 3rd 3a.m. (or any other time.) If any person turns up they (and their side) will immediately be disqualified for failing to default.

As a point of disinterest Lapp Goch Apathetes have recently defeated Australian apathetes (no mean feat) in the great tea battle of mid yawn by unintensive contemplation of the naval.

By now some gross nitpicking pile of aadvarks dung has 'wittily' commented that no true apathete would bother to write to Salient and while this can obviously apply to all other self-proclaimed apathetes it cannot apply to the writer of this letter (possibly me but you never can tell) for 4 reasons.