Interview w/ Glen Duncan • Author, “Weathercock” “I, Lucifer”

SM: Please tell us about the last time you risked your life.

GD: Two days ago, by getting in the car to drive into central London. Nothing to tell. I survived.

SM: If you had to draw a shipwreck, what would you make sure to include in the picture?

GD: The skeletons of an octogenerian couple locked in an unmistakably erotic embrace.

SM: What was the first thing you thought when you woke up this morning?

GD: Is there any way I can rationalize not getting out of bed?

SM: When was the last time you were caught in an extreme weather phenomenon? (i.e. tornado, hurricane, blizzard, etc.)

GD: 1982. I was lying in the middle of Salisbury Plain in what’s optimistically called a ‘survival’ bag at the heart of the worst electrical storm in human history. The experience did away with any delusions I had about having done away with Roman Catholicism.

SM: Please indulge us with an anecdote.

GD: One day in the 1970s, I asked my six-year-old nephew, who was getting on my nerves: ‘Are you autistic?’ He said: ‘No, I’m Steve Austin.’ I’m not sure why, but that made a big impression on me.

SM: What is a topic you are willing to lie to strangers about?

GD: Anything, if the circumstances are right.

SM: What was the last circumstance you found yourself in that left you with a sense of mystery?

GD: A few days ago, for no apparent reason, I lost my balance whilst walking along the street. No pain, no tripping-up, nothing except sudden and complete disorientation. I’ve just turned 39, so presumably this is the shape of things to come.

SM: When was the last time you got yourself lost?

GD: I never go anywhere without a map. I never get lost. Nothing exciting ever happens to me.

SM: What do you find to be your most valuable possession (physical or abstract)?

GD: Physically, my penis. Abstractly, my imagination. Together the two frequently make sad and beautiful music.

SM: Please describe an impressionable moment from your childhood.

GD: Being caught with my tongue in the butt crack of an eleven-year-old girl neighbour in the front room of my house by my mother when I was five.

Glen Duncan