First... a pardon. I should hate to be hounded further for acts which some might consider crimes, but which I prefer to think of as aesthetic statements. I have, after all, killed only the very dull.
After some compatriots and me started a little private society - the Club de Paradis Artificiel - and I published a little booklet about some of the happenings there, and a trifle of poetry, I was apprehended like some common vagabond or criminal! On trumped up charges I was locked in Bedlam for an indefinite period - charges such as gross indecency, sodomy, acting against nature and more of this fluff.
After a failed escape attempt I bided my time. It took me over five years before I could escape! Ah, but then I took my revenge, stopping only for a brief moment for laudanum and to change my suit.
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What good is mere money when presented with such delightful fare?
After my adventures I can once again commit myself to my true duty - and the duty of the dandy and his tragedy are one and the same; he must always be more exquisite than his surroundings and thus does he outshine the glory of the world. All things are made dull by his radiance.
