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THE HELLFIRE CLUB MANIFESTO
Art thou pale for weariness?
of climbing heaven and gazing on the Earth,
wandering companionless
among the stars that have a different birth
and ever changing, like a joyless eye
that finds no object worth its constancy?
...If so my brothers, you have happenchanced upon the place for you.
The Hellfire Club; Surrogate home to rakes, and raconteurs, of aristocracy
and alleywhores alike, all united in one voice calling for
'Wine, Wit and Women!'
A pastoral wonderland, a paen to the decadence of Old Rome; a bespoke parlour redolent of Bacchanalia and unsettlingly sensuous leather arm chairs; the heady air thighing with the scent of excessively expensive opium-tinted cigarettes mingled with all the intoxicating perfumes of Araby, this miasma subtely punctuated by the mellifluous musings of the ignoblest minds in Blighty.. and of course the distant cracking of leather on virgin flesh.
A comedy club, a theatre of the arts, a smorgasbord of all the multiplicitous human endeavours to self expression, a palace of debauch, a reason d'etre, but above all a place to lie in the gutter but most definately gaze upon the stars.
Once you have retired for the eventide to the artistic bastion of our clandestine clubhouse, and escaped the dismal drudgery of the hoi poloi then you will find yourself transported to an Arcadian vision, surrounded by unadulterated abandon in all its outlandish modes, "Society? -pure whimsy, Law? -of little import, Decorum? -without consequence", surrender to our one inalienable, guiding and abiding precept and "Do What Thou Wilt".
Ladies, Gentleman, Friends and occasional Lovers,
I urge you, give yourselves to infamy, give yourselves to the Hellfire.
Yours insouciantly,
Kieran Leonard: Founder and Damned Rake of the Hellfire Club.