Composition on a Pagan Theme ("Stick Ra")

And so we come to the final flag in what has been a most spectacular and enlightening exhibition. This last exhibit brings the Fleydon story bang up to date - and what a curious work it is. Small, apologetic almost, it oozes a quality not seen in any of Fleydon's previous works, that of...humility.

"We were approaching the play-offs. The tension was unbearable. Grown men were ashen-faced and women whimpered and shook with tension. It was a terrible mix of 'deja vu' and dread. No-one dared express confidence for fear that confidence be shattered. It was a strange and terrible time. The best of times, the worst of times. Personally, as an artist, I felt
powerless. For two years I had shouted defiance, screamed at our adversaries,' taunted the fates...and what had it bought me? Two play-off defeats and the thrill of being turned over by every relegation-threatened team in the league. Whatever I thought I was doing wasn't working. I was drained and at the end of my tether. And you know that's when I started hearing the voices..."

Felydon's aural delusions coincided with a period of religious and personal upheaval. Having professed most of the orthodox religions at one time - attracted more it seemed by the regalia, interesting smells and obscure imagary than by any true conviction - Fleydon now found himself looking for solace in an unusual place.

"Of course I'd heard of Stick Ra, but I didn't know much about him. He doesn't thrust himself at you like some Gods might, you know... Anyway I saw a picture of this powerful, shamanic figure and I knew that, at last, I was coming home. Everything made sense. Everything was right. When I looked at his totems and fetishes, his cheeky mask and his nut-brown Ghandi legs I knew I'd found what I was looking for."

Just in time for the Hornchurch game Fleydon prepared a simple expression of hope. It took the form of a sincere and very humble appeal to Stick Ra to, 'if it wasn't too much bother' protect and deliver the team and its supporters from the Rymans League.

"I didn't fly it in my usual pace, but chose an isolated corner of the Tempest and didn't put it up until just before kick-off. I spent most of the game in silent prayer and - Stick Ra's name be praised - we overcame the Urchins to progress to the final. I learnt a big lesson that day. The Meek Shall Inherit the Blue Square South. I intended to be meek from that day forth.

In design and concept I suppose I was influenced by those Tibetan flags whose fluttering carries their message to the gods above. Except that I had to tie mine down of course as it gets a bit annoying on a windy day and people who get hit by it's flailing edges can get slightly annoyed, but the message seemed to get through anyway. To be truthful I felt it was a flag flown for me, for my benefit, not crowds... and that made it a very powerful and
spiritual tool. Even if it looks a bit boring."

Now describing himself as a 'Stickrologist' Fleydon is happy to pass on a sizeable percentage of his income (or 'tithes' as it is referred to), as well as the undoubted cache of his name for the furtherance of the Latter-day Church of Stick Ra.

"I don't define myself as an artist anymore. I'm an acolyte and a seeker of the true light, currently undertaking instruction from one of the Elders and searching for the hero within. Let me witness that, despite what the Daily Mail says*, it's a great organization, a holy organization and with luck it'll see me through to the Conference National. In the meantime, and until it does, can I ask you a question? Are you worried about the state of the Earth at this moment in time...? No? Well maybe you'd like to read 'The Flag-Tower'? Come along to
one of our informal cake and pie nights? We have virgins you know...?"

Leaving Fleydon, with his radiant face and supine posture, I can only hope that this negation of the artistic within him was a temporary measure. Throughout the exhibition tour he had blown hot and cold , ranted and raged, sworn and smiled as he relieved the traumas and emotions of a an extreme artistic life. If nothing else he had always been a cauldron of emotion but here, right at the end, it seemed the cauldron was on simmer and the flame turned low. Whether he ever produces another work only time will tell but surely even the opiate of religion will be unable to quench such a mighty soul for long?

Composition on a Pagan Theme ("Stick Ra") is the property of The Stick Ra Religious Enterpise Co. of Florida.

*"Weeping Stick Ra Image In Stained Towel 'A Bogus Fraud!' Lady Di Trial Told"

Daily Mail 14 August 08

Composition in Navy Blue and Flesh ("Whole Pitch")

Can there possibly be a work of more intense intellectual significance than "Whole Pitch"? This is a creation that is so often referenced as a synopsis of the whole cult of 'Western Male Anxiety', a work hailed and revered by such diverse groups as Marxists, Feminists, the Avant Garde and the Wandsworth Prison Warder Association, that to review it here seems almost sacrilegious. And yet for a work of such depth and profundity it seems so ... innocent.

Fleydon himself is so convinced of it's importance that he insisted a whole room of his exhibition be dedicated to this single flag.

"I am by birth a Western Male and it is the vision of the Western Male that has shaped the world in which we live. Like myself, this work is charged with a profound sexuality and unfathomable depths of both power and vulnerability. Truly a soul-baring experience both to create and to contemplate."

Standing together in the dimly lit room, the back-lit image resplendent before us, I felt a shiver of excitement run down my spine. Looking across at Fleydon's fine, leonine profile, his thatch of golden hair swept back, mane-like over his broad shoulders I found myself caught up in the majesty of the moment. When Fleydon turned and looked at me with his slate-grey eyes I felt truly transfixed, a moth caught in the destructive light of his bright candle.

"It's all in the eye you know" he said slowly and with a calm, measured voice "The 'Male Gaze' beloved of cinematic auteurs. Voyeurism. Peep-Shows. What the Butler Saw. The Private (Prying?) Eye. The inescapable fact is that the whole of Western Male sexuality, and therefore Western Art, is based on the concept of the all seeing, all devouring, yet distancing, eye. To see is to objectify, to render the object of the gaze less powerful, less threatening, less unknowing. Typically the female form, of course, with its uncertain depths of devouring fecundity, but the Western Male's need to see, record and list and control spills over into other areas of anxiety. Life, death, religion .... and AFC Wimbledon.

Anxiety is the common currency of all male supporters, myself included, an anxiety centred, of course, around notions of performance. Performance is the dread yardstick by which the supporter nervously measures himself against his peers. 'We didn't perform today. Will we perform next week or are we now too anxious?" Such corrosive attitudes can only be held in check by the Male Eye diffusing the anxiety by observing and objectifying that which is laid before it. A barrage of facts and figures line-ups, whose in , whose out, points lost, points gained, goal difference, shots on target, bad refereeing decisions, all are noted and recorded by the gaze.

'We must have been watching a different game' they cry, and so of course we were. We each watch the game that serves our needs. We each take from it what we need to see and want to see. In a very real sense NutsTV provides us all with football pornography, edited highlights that reduce the anxiety, even when we withdraw in limp defeat."

So much more has been written on the inherent anxiety symbolism within the work by the likes of Camille Paglia and Germain Greer that we must step back a pace and accept our limitations, both of space and time. However I did broach the fact that the male depicted had only one eye. Was there any reason for that? And what of the slogan 'I can see the whole pitch from here, and the Dons are all over them!' ?

"In brief, two eyes imply depth of field and vision. A single eye, however, is a concentrated burst of light, transfixing in a second. Think of HAL, the Eye on the Tower in Lord of the Rings, Bunuels symbolic slicing of the eye (female this time - we can brook no competition!), Daleks and the mighty Cyclops. I htink we can say that Eye = I (see) squared."

He gave a faint smile and continued

With regard to the text, the 'Whole Pitch'? is an obvious metaphor for the bed, scene of primal anxiety and displacement - Have you ever thought of the range of activities men use to distance themselves from the emotional envelopment of the female? I ask you, what are fantasies of cuckoldry, sex toys, lesbianism and even bestiality? Obviously they are nothing more than projections of male anxiety, hasty barricades erected against rampant, emotional, devouring nature of female sexuality. By allowing something more reliable, more willing and more able to step in the anxious male can remove the anxiety (I can't fail if I'm not present) and retire to preserve his fragmented feelings of control through his 'controlling' gaze often represented by his camera or video recorder. Not that I have that problem of course, but I believe lots of others have and they tell me all about it.

Then there's the exultant shout 'The Dons are all over them!' - sexual again of course, I mean do you want me to draw you a picture? Or better still would you like a discreet photograph or two or two?

Uncertain of his intentions and wary of the sudden glint in his eye, I declined his offer and we moved on in uneasy silence.

3.9 Composition in Navy Blue and Flesh ("Whole Pitch") is on view courtesy of the Heffner Foundation, Las Vegas.

Composition in Rainbow Hues ('Trust')

"Up until this point in my career I had sneered at commissions, regarding the filthy lucre as tainted money that despoiled the pure fountain of art. However the impending divorce from my estranged Nigerian wife Constance left me somewhat...on the back foot. When the Dons Trust came knocking I was in no position to decline their generous offer"

Constance Fleydon is a shadowy figure in the early life and career of the artist and little is known about her, other than rumors that they met through an elaborate internet marriage scam that went badly wrong. Cited by many as an early muse she has, over the years, achieved a reputation in Fleydon mythology akin to a combination of Lucretia Borgia, Yoko Ono and Winnie Mandela, which is no mean feat for a woman of whom no known photograph exists. Fleydon's muttered retort that 'vampires don't leave an image' is an entertaining but fanciful explanation for her uncanny ability to maintain such a low profile

"The Dons Trust brief, such as it was, consisted of the phrase 'JOIN THE TEAM' - apart from that I was left to my own devices. What emerged was, to all intents and purposes, a fine example of inclusivity and harmony. A set of people of all hues and genders joining together to embrace, protect and empower the whole concept of AFC Wimbledon. A very tidy design, I think you'll agree. Certainly the clients were well pleased and the art world responded positively to the work, noting and enjoying the restraint that such a brief imposed upon me - I recall one buffoon remarking 'The wild rose clipped produces the sweetest flowers', which just goes to show what he knows."

Pulling on my tie to bring me down to his own, wheel-chair bound level he smirked and hissed his confession in my ear

"Actually I was pretty pissed off with Constance who fleeced me before running off and setting up shop with a newsagent called Hector. What made it worse was that Hector was a friend and ex-body model of mine I used in my 'Tom of Finland' phase and he was able to supply Constance with certain...err...'facts' that I didn't really want exposed to the tabloids, especially regarding my 'predilections' for engaging in certain 'activities' whilst wearing Dons garb. Not that we haven't all indulged, of course...just that some of us would prefer it kept under wraps, as it were. As part of the terms imposed upon me I was to maintain a silence over the details of the settlement. But there's more than one way to skin a cat - allegory and imagery are part and parcel of an artist's mental make-up. What the picture actually depicts is less a vision of gender and hue embracing a common cause, but my two 'face-less' friends the body model and the invisible woman, publicly hanging me out to dry just before dropping me altogether."

He shook his head ruefully before concluding

"As a wise sit-com character once remarked - 'Tricky chap, Johnny Marriage'..."

Composition in Rainbow Hues ('Trust') is the proud property of the Dons Trust, owners of AFC Wimbledon. It will be flown annually as part of the traditional 'Post-Voting' Membership Apathy Round-Up Festival.

Composition in Yellow, Blue and Spanish ('Frankie')

(Background – Following the announcement that club stalwart Antony ‘Frankie’ Howard was leaving the club for America, Fleydon was apparently approached by both the Cuban artist Jay Cee and a representative from the secretive but influential Kent Wombles association. Telephone records indicate that their radical proposal was for Fleydon to produce and lend his name to a flag designed by Jay Cee and to be commissioned and presented by the Men of Kent. To the surprise of many Fleydon appeared to accepted this minor role, especially in light of his recent comments that he “must be left free to plough my own damn artistic furrow – however wobbly it might be”. However events on the day belied this backroom status as Fleydon seemed to dominate proceedings with tannoy announcements, public signings, special all-access clearance to the President’s Lounge and the total usurping of the post-match award ceremony. This exhibition of preening self-congratulation and obsequiousness was of Winkleman-esque proportion as Fleydon took every opportunity of projecting and promoting both himself and his works in a shameless display leaving the assembled audience stunned and embarrassed. For some reason neither Jay Cee nor the Man of Kent were present for the ceremony and their current whereabouts are unknown. Relatives are highly concerned and appeal for anyone with information to make themselves known.)

The 'Commissioned Work' has a long and and distinguished history in the world of art - the Sistine Chapel being one of the more notable examples - but it came as a surprise to find that that Fleydon was happy to accept not only a commission, but also to work in collaboration with the Cuban artist Jay Cee. For an individual renown as having an ego the size of a Hillman Minx what, I wondered, persuaded him to contribute.

"I could say it was the stimulating need to justify my ideas to a co-worker; I could claim that a co-operative work was a suitable tribute to a great servant of the club; I could claim that it was the challenge to work within prescribed limits that intrigued me. However, to be honest I figured that I wouldn't have to do much myself as passable flag had been designed already (and lets face it I'm far more famous than that Cuban lothario and every one would think it was my design anyway). There was a good chance the finished work would end up on the box with my name associated with it and a good chance I would probably appear in the next matchday programme. I had heard that 'Hello!' magazine were sniffing around as well so with just a bit of extra effort on my part I reached a whole new market. From my point of view this was a win-win situation all round and, as they say, all publicity is good publicity!"

With a wink and a cocky-cockney saunter Fleydon moved on down the line to his next work leaving me both disheartened and disillusioned. Had being labeled "The World's Greatest Living Artist" finally gone to Fleydon's head? His willingness to profit from others hard work in order to make a quick buck reminded me of Salvador Dali, another of the infamous 'Fleydon Circle'. I felt obliged to reconsider my attitude toward this icon. Was Fleydon, in fact, less an artist and more an arrogant sh*t? Once the seed had been planted I found myself watering it with the corrosive moisture of doubt and with the genius removed Fleydon did seem to have more than his share of character failings

Composition in Yellow, Blue and Spanish ('Frankie') is presently on its way to the USA where it will be flown every 4th July. Since being signed by several Wimbledon luminaries the flag has rapidly increased in value and is currently insured for double figures.

Composition in Words ("Victory")

"I'm not happy with this work and I fought hard not to have it included in this exhibition but, hey, what can you do?"

Fleydon almost slouches as he draws his rounded shoulders tight around his neck, reminding me of both James Dean and my Aunt's pet tortoise Flash. He continued with his explanation.

"It's not because of the content - a homage to very dear friend no longer with us - nor because of the intellectual basis of the work but really because of the execution. It suffers through my mistakes and like Frankenstein repelled by my own creation, I am both attracted and repelled in equal measure."

Fleydon pointed to the work with his furled umbrella, waving it over the canvas as though still engaged in the act of painting. There is a discernible sense of disappointment about him and a large sigh wracks his frame.

"They say a picture is worth a thousand words but my dear friend Guy Debord* disagreed. He believed that words can conjour up a myriad of mental images especially when the words are chosen with care - a powerful weapon against injustice in hands such as his. Would the rioting Parisian students of the '60's have found inspiration in a Banksey? I doubt it but they did find inspiration in the words of Guy and what is so wonderful to me is that what was true of the young revoloutionaries of Paris is equally true of Terry Brown. Hard to believe? Well it might be seen as a case of convergent evoloution - a similar response to circumstances. Consider the immortal phrase ... "Victory will be for those who create disorder without loving it" - I ask you, what is that other than a succinct summary of Terry's declaration of intent that 'we will win playing football, but if necessary are prepared to 'win ugly'?

Fleydon fell silent again and I tried to gather my thoughts together. It seemed to me that here we have a work that consciously rejects the image for the mentally stimulating power of the word; that then pays homage to a close personal friend and fellow revolutionary; that also echoes the ethos of a team aware that victory can sometimes only be achieved by a disruption of harmony in the opposition - however unaesthetic that may be to the viewer. What, I wondered, could Fleydon find so wrong?

"Execution dear boy. Firstly I bought a king-size canvas in error, which means that the work is inevitably obscured (as in the photo above) and secondly my 'Victory' is far too small. It should have been the word that carried the work but instead the focus is on 'Disorder' and what sort of message is that to send out? I screwed up big time on this one. Guy must be pissing himself laughing"

Composition in Words ("Victory") is currently on loan to the 'Tea Hut Wall Gallery', Kingsmeadow


*Guy Dubord - Situationalist and Marxist Revoloutionary, was a friend of Fleydon from their days together at Stowe and their membership of the Mildenhall Hunt. Dubord delivered the oration at Fleydon's marriage but their relationship became strained in the mid 80's when Dubord declared everything - including Fleydon - a product of his own imagination, a situation Fleydon naturally found intolerable.

Composition in Leather and Whiskers - "Every Shot Counts"

'Ambiguity' is a word that critics often use when attempting to fathom the works of Fleydon. For those not as clever as critics like me this is often seen as a startling statement. 'How can this be so? Fleydon's flags are clarion calls of clarity, as obvious and loud as a street barker selling his wares. How can this be ambiguous?' At first glance this may appear the case, but consider this - the lowly street barker may indeed have a clear voice but what of the ambiguity, the double-entendre, the allusion and, especially in the visual field, the illusion? Exhortation to simpering girls to 'Come and see my cocoanuts!' and winking asides to middle-aged women to check out his 'prime slab of beef' are hardly literal requests!

So it is with Fleydon. When faced with the blank command to Make Every Shot Count, a wise man will pause, take stock, step back a pace or two ... and consider their response.

Fine words butter no parsnips, my saintly Nan once advised me, adding as an afterthought that I should also remember that the devil is in the detail and to always read the fine print. Wise sentiments that have stood me in good stead over the years.

On an objective viewing my suspicions were aroused almost immediately. Where is the crest, the team strip and other obvious visual Wimbledon insignia so prevalant in Fleydon's work? And then there's the man himself, elderly with a full set of whiskers, his eyes wide open and in his hands a weapon - quite possibly a Winchester Repeating Rifle, although the detailing is a little obscure. What are we to make of him? I confess I found myself more and more perplexed the closer I looked. What was it that Fleydon was telling me here?

Time, I felt, to go back to basics and to examine the obvious.

We seem to have a simple message here: Shots at goal are a good thing, but only when they are decent efforts. Blazing over the bar is a waste. Careful shooting is the order of the day then. So far so good and Fleydon chooses to illustrate this dictum with a picture of a cowboy, in the hope that wayward forwards can make the link. Simple and straightforward - no room for ambiguity here. And yet, and yet... something did not add up...

The figure has a grimy yellow neckerchief, it is true, and a sweat-stained blue shirt. But the eyes are wide with fear, the clammy hands locked on to his weapon with a rigidity of sheer terror, not with the usual relaxed insouciance of a Wimbledon player ordering his pint at the bar. He is old, bewhiskerd, befuddled - he's not even aiming his weapon and for all his hardware he looks, well, impotent? The signs were all wrong, I felt a sickness at the bottom of my stomach and my mind was literally spinning as we stood before the canvas. Surely that man couldn't be a Don? What on earth was going on in Fleydon's mind? What was he telling us?

And then it hit me. Just as Colonel Kurtz was struck by his revelation in the jungles of Vietnam, then I too saw everything with a clarity and precision. It was so neat, so obvious and so right. The clue was in the motto Bushwhacked by the Womble Army. Well it was already clear that the old man wasn't a Womble and describing him as an 'army' was laughable and besides bushwhacking is a young man's sport (or certainly was in my Prep School). It was then that the crystal sliver of comprehension pierced my brain. He wasn't the 'whacker, he was the 'whacked!

Everything fell into place - the bewhiskered old man was symbolic of a senior yet decrepit adversary fallen on hard times, as an archetypal 'cowboy' he represented shoddy performances and lack of quality, his yellow and blue were actually the colours of Torquay United, not the Dons, and the fear in his eyes was induced by the sight of lean, hungry and young Wimbledon players laying siege to his goal. He has mentally 'circled his waggons' and has the air of one who knows his time has come. Make Every Shot Count was the instruction to our players aiming to finish him off not advice to a man with flaccid and damp cartridges. Again it reminded me of Kurtz, the symbolic cow ripe for slaughter and scrifice.

Ambiguity? I'll give you ambiguity....this was masterful misdirection that really forces an intellectual gyration from the viewer. Quite brilliant!

Fleydon, however seemed un-moved by my analysis.

"Yes, well, maybe... there might be something in it I suppose. Artistically I was happy with my work but a fat lot of good it does if the opposition refuse to take the message on board. My obvious mistake was to depict the 1879 Winchester, not an earlier model. The 'Gun that Won the West' looks as though it did the job for the South-West as well. And as for my close
friend Roscoe with his cowboy name and his 'love of the club'? Ha! Less The Man with No-Name and more Bang, Bang, My Baby Shot Me Down. I always prefered Shane anyway."

With that Fleydon turned abuptly and moved on. My exposition had been terminated. With extreme prejudice...

Composition in Three Parts ('The Mystic Triptych')

Some great works are recognised the moment they are seen but others often have to wait for their time to arrive. Fleydon has no doubt that Composition in Three Parts : The Mystic Triptych will prove to be not only his magnum opus but also his chef d’oeuver to boot.

“For the time being I am content that it lay there, open to the gaze. It is not necessary that people should leap about excitedly, throwing themselves about in a frenzy and exclaiming my genius to the heavens. In this case that would be entirely the wrong reaction. What I see in the eyes of the masses is a questioning, an understanding that something is going on here far beyond their ken. But they will grope their way toward enlightenment and they will find the journey worthwhile, of that I am sure. Except possibly the Brazilian gentleman who questioned both my sanity and the direction in which my art is leading me - a reaction which I fear shows a more philistine attitude than that I have come to expect from the Tempest End. But no more of that…I have a question of you. Please, would you care to tell me what you see in these pictures?”

Fleydon leaned back in his bath chair, rested his chin on his folded hands and fixed me with a gentle but querulous look. Caught unaware I could only make some ineffectual remarks about ‘Knights in armour’, some fairly inflammatory titles and then, in a stroke of inspiration, I recalled and remarked on his boyhood fascination with tales of Agincourt and other Mediaeval battle mentioned in our first ever interview. I was immediately rewarded by his craggy countenance softening into a smile.

“Well done, you are making a start. But only a start – forget the rest of your nonsense and concentrate on the mystical power of the mediaeval tale. The first flowering of the narrative. Often based on Latin, or ‘roman’ texts what you are seeing is a true ‘romance’ writ large!!”

Fleydon staggered to his feet and threw his arms open wide as though to embrace his work before the sudden exertion took its toll and he slumped back into his chair

“For many acolytes AFC Wimbledon is so much more than a team - it is a ‘romance’ in the deepest sense - and what is more, it is a ‘pure’ relationship, unsullied by the degradations of the physical – well, with some unfortunate exceptions anyway. And what better analogy for such feelings than that of the chivalric romance with overtones of religious fundamentalism and a dash of righteous fervour? We are all Crusaders here, you know!”

Fleydon laughed a joyous peal of laughter that sounded not unlike a small church announcing deliverance from the plague. He then paused to wipe a fleck of spittle from the corner of his mouth before continuing

“Being inspired by the 'Roman-ces' it was entirely appropriate that they should be painted on old Roman blinds from my front room,, a fortuitous but significant coincidence. There may be questions from some from the 'big is beautiful' school as to their size but what I hope will be apparent is that these are in fact miniature flags, designed as processional banners or khorugvs rather than for flagpoles. Until summoned for their final climactic act they will rest in the Tempest End, the club’s undeniable iconostasis. Come that fateful moment they will be taken down to be carried at the head of a victory procession that will stretch along the road as far as the eye can see. The hushed masses of Wimbledon will finally celebrate Ascension Day, and leave the Rymans (rhymes with 'Romance'?) beneath us. “Next year, Blue Square!” as the traditional toast goes!”

So why three banners? Why spend so much time these, admittedly exquisite, miniatures when a single bigger banner would have sufficed.

“It is a fair question at first glance, but you overlook the power of three – “Three..” as the recent pop hit points out, “…is a magic number”. We can never underestimate the significance of the Trinity; Father, Son and Holy Ghost; Faith Hope and Charity; Groucho, Chico and Harpo; the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe all groups of that hallowed number. And most pertinent of all given our play-off potential, THIRD TIME LUCKY! It also allows the showing of three aspects of our crusade, our ‘three-pronged attack’, our ‘three coins in the fountain’ or even, our ‘three faces of Eve’. Three, I need not also remind the purist, is when all Saturday games should commence. One I’m afraid, just wouldn’t cut the mustard.”

Concluding his introduction to the context in which the works were created, Fleydon then grasped my elbow and pointed out some of the facets unique to each of the works

Left Panel: Scourge of the Unworthy

“Pure in radiant spirit, clean of attire and looking for something nice to do, here the Spirit of Wimbledon is looking to lead by example. The flowers are symbolic of Dorothea of Caesarea, a martyr who was forced by the authorities to make a foul choice. She chose her own route and was martyred for her steadfastness. I salute and recognise her as a spiritual Don.’

Centre Panel: Smiters of the Degenerate

“Dismounted and attired in the away strip, the Spirit of Wimbledon ‘gets down and dirty’ with the Beast of Revelations, a false prophet from whose cavernous mouth spews forth lies, falsehoods and cant. Only the Spirit of Wimbledon can finally seal its fate. Some purport to see the crest of MK Dons concealed in the helm above the painting but that would be a coincidence too frightening to contemplate and surely worthy of further research.”

Right Panel: Purgers of the Unclean

"Armed and dangerous with the banner of the True Faith fluttering above his cross-eyed warhorse Elegius and accompanied by his two war dogs, Nipper and Smudge, the Spirit of Wimbledon is ready for battle. Gentle no more but ferocious in his El Cid-like awesomeness, enemies tremble at his name and the ferocity of his visage - and that's where a spot or two of 'Purging ' takes place as bowels loosen at the merest mention of his name. Actually, technically, I found 'ferocious visages' a bit tricky so I decided to paint him in a helmet instead. Not quite as scary, but I think I pulled it off."

Fleydon then addressed me for a final time

'What I have discussed with you with regard to these paintings is all true and yet...and yet...and yet...it is only part of the truth. There is so much more to them than just that, but I'm not going to do all the work for you. Can I suggest though that you think of the links with Great Feast where the clans were drawn in under the protective walls of the Great Hall, decorated with its tales of gods and heroes. or instead think of the great Tourneys held in the King's Tilt Yard - have you never considered the thread that connects the thrill and spectacle of the joust to the colour-filled flutterings of a Woking cup final crowd? Or then the obvious links to Illuminated Manuscripts and the scholarly and monastic traditions they evoke. And what of Monty Python movies and the "Knights that go Ni!", peasants in the mud and 'brave Sir Robin'? All these resonate deeply do they not, throwing up a mass of links and suggestions, thoughts and associations? The depth of this work, the layers of meaning and of interpretation that are possible...well it astounds even me. That is why I am content that, with time, these works will take their place as the brightest stars in my artistic firmament. Meanwhile, until that day, I am more than happy to continue to wear my Scourge of the Unworthy t-shirt underneath my Don's top. After all, a little bit of hair-shirt suffering is good for the soul, however pure it might be.'

Composition in Three Parts : The Mystic Triptych are currently housed in lead lined caskets underneath the Tempest End, They are ceremonially draped over a number of virgins before being hoisted five minute before kick off as part an 'Incense and Chanting ' ceremony.