“OH! JUMPING JEEPERS! NOT MORE CONTENT!” I hear you bellow, unsettling your cats, neighbours or family members.
Of course, we can hear the scorn and doubt in your voice, even here in the afterlife. You sound irreversibly tired. Some might say jaded. We wouldn’t blame you either.
As a very famous publisher of many popular magazines you may have read whilst waiting for a root canal, eyebrow threading or colonoscopy*, let me tell you this: Antidote isn’t like “the others”.
It feels like an odd time to delve into humour publishing and launch a magazine containing humour, or what we in the trade call “a humour magazine”, but we thought it high time there was one.
Because you see, the fine chaps and gals at Antidote have been casting an eye around and they don’t think much of any of it. Hence their grand plan to crush the mundane and give you the most precious of commodities – the gift of laughter, of which there’s plenty to be had.
And what of the future? Well, we have assembled a rather splendid team of writers and contributors with a comedic bent and, more often than not, a hangover, with more lined up (against the wall), so you should continue to expect some big names with the regular phalanx of funny people.
What we shall try to do is keep bringing out the best magazine as we can possibly bring you, featuring some of the best talent we can possibly give a blank cheque to. It may sound an insane idea, but that’s what they said when I launched Spontaneous Combustion Weekly.
Anyhow, there it is, so please help yourself to it. I of course will continue to consult them from up here, even though it’s not always easy to concentrate with Keith Moon and George Gershwin jamming on the cloud next door.
If you’re in, we hope you enjoy these tentative steps we’re making into who knows what. If you’re not, well, may the Lord have mercy on your soul.
With love and undisclosed income,
Condé Montrose Nast (Deceased)
* Ed. Note: Our consultant Mr. Nast’s magazines include Vanity Fair, Vogue, The New Yorker and Giblets Monthly