#Peter Daube imagine

[tawneybel]

Request: “Power Rangers imagines: …Stingrage.” Fun thing about writing for monster men is you learn biology facts. Rays are batoids/batomorphi. Another fun thing is that you learn that what you think should be a word, like batomorphic, isn’t. Sting Rage/Stingrage isn’t that batomorphic, anyway. But if he’s like Vexacus down there…

Most men, even monster men, should have backed off when presented with a taser. Unsure if the alien recognized it as a weapon, you turned it on. Neither of you spoke as the sparks provided the sole artificial light in the woods. The moon was near full. Besides its effect on the tides, moonlight made it easier for predators to spot prey. And got certain ocean life in the mood. 

Despite the name, Sting Rage didn’t seem very aquatic to you. Aside from his trident. Later you’d learn his attempts at courtship were batoid. But pupiless eyes and a respirator made it impossible to tell Poisandra’s underling had been interested in you from the get-go.  

Red’s right, you thought. Sting Rage does kinda resemble an “overgrown insect.”

Maybe there was some shrimp DNA in there. What with the antennae. Truth be told, the villain interested you a little. He just had so many cool features cobbled together. Maybe they weren’t antennae and a trident, but horns and a pitchfork. The faces composing his armor evoked the screaming damned. Flames and all. What you initially figured was tubing looked corniculate up close. 

Okay, enough waxing poetic, you thought, glancing at the moon again. 

Meanwhile, Sting Rage’s thoughts on your appearance weren’t nearly as complicated. Sparks were flying and he was horny. The electronic currents you were giving off were irresistible. If he had stopped to think, Sting Rage might have realized that wasn’t bioelectricity. But the taser’s distant shock had so stimulated his ray instincts, he may have just lodged a stinger in your back and fucked you senseless anyway. If he’d suspected you were just trying to defend yourself at that moment. 

You were an acquaintance of the Rangers. Yet you’d sent out a very clear signal you wanted to mate. With him, of all choices. He stepped closer. You braced yourself to be impaled with his weapon. Then he laid his trident against a tree before continuing his advance.

With a sinking feeling, you realized the battery might run out. And he clearly had decided you weren’t a threat, as he was even removing his mask! 

Sting Rage shot you a benevolent smile. He couldn’t sense the current anymore. This would be his first time mating with a human. He wondered if it would be your first time interspecifically, too. Maybe you weren’t used to this kind of foreplay. But he was glad you initiated this. Up close, he could see how nervous you were. Male humans tended to have only one penis, right? Hopefully you wouldn’t be overwhelmed by two. 

“Please,” you pleaded, switching the taser on again. It probably looked pathetic; brandishing a weapon he clearly wasn’t afraid of while begging for your life.  

Oh no. His partner wasn’t able to produce a charge on her own. She had to use some kind of tool to gain his attention. Sting Rage’s heart swelled with pity. And desire. How thoughtful of you! Even with your apparent inexperience with his species’ copulatory habits, you were courting him! Humans didn’t have anything like an estrus. They were ready to go whenever. Yet you were coming onto Sting Rage during his mating season!  

What happened next made you drop your taser.

He ducked down and nipped at your chest. 

Before your mouth could form words, his attacked again. Even in your confusion, you could guess Sting Rage was a little frustrated by the layers.

And he was! The cups wouldn’t even let him bite your pecs through the shirt’s fabric. If he managed to satisfy you enough, get you to agree to be his mate, then you might agree to work for Poisandra. So she could take you shopping. He knew from accidentally walking in on her and Sledge that the bustier unzipped easily and the black top, which showed underboob, was very removable as well. 

“Okay,” you drawled, pocketing the taser. I clearly misread the situation.

“You can keep that out if you want,” he replied, burying his face between your tits. “If you need.”

“You’d have to get off.”

“I’m trying. If you could be so kind as to remove your bra, I can complete our mating ritual.”

“What kind of mating ritual involves a taser?”

It took him a second to put two and two together.

“That’s not a sex toy?”

“What?”

[istanbularttr]

Gilbert and commission

Imagine the tenth part of this outrage applied to statue, picture, hymn, or poem. Suppose the Trustees of the British Museum were to call in Mr. Gilbert and commission him to restore the Parthenon torsos, to bring the fragments from the Mausoleum up to the style of the Periclean era. Suppose the Ministry of Fine Arts in France restored the arms of the Melian Aphrodite in the Louvre, or the Pope restored the legs, arms, and head to the torso beloved by Buonarroti. Europe, in either case, would ring with indignation and horror. Time was, no doubt, when these things were done, and done by clever sculptors in better ages of art than ours. But we may be fairly sure that it will never be done again.

Pictures, we know, have been restored; and, perhaps, on the sly are restored still. Years ago I saw a miscreant painting over the ‘ Peter Martyr ’ of Titian in the Church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo; and it would have been a condign punishment if the fire which consumed it had caught him red-handed in the act. They have daubed Leonardo’s ‘ Cenacolo ’ till there is nothing but a shadow left. But though a sacrilegious brush may now and then be raised against an ancient Master (just as murder, rape, and arson are not yet absolutely put down), even our great- great-grandfathers, who made the grand tour and ‘collected’ in the days of Horace Walpole, never added powder and a full wig to one of Titian’s Doges, or asked Zoffany to finish a chalk study by Michael Angelo.

Certainly Colley Cibber

I do not know that there ever was a time when people restored a poem or a piece of music. Certainly Colley Cibber restored some of Shakespeare’s plays, introducing bon ton into ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Richard HI.’ And Michael Costa would interpolate brass into Handel’s ‘Messiah.’ But in any world that claims a title to art, taste, or culture, to falsify a note or a word, either in music or in poem private tours istanbul, is rank forgery and profanity—felony without benefit of clergy. Manuscripts are searched with microscopes and collated by photographs to secure the ipsissima verba of the author. And the editor who ‘improved’ a single line of ‘Lycidas’ would be drummed out of literature to the ‘ Rogue’s March.’

In our day, happily, poem, music, picture, and statue are preserved with a loving and religious care. Picture and statue are cased in glass and air-tight chambers; for we would not beteem the winds of heaven visit their face too roughly. The rude public are kept at arms’-length; and in some countries are not suffered so much as to look at the books, engravings, and paintings for which they have paid. Worship of an. old poet is carried to the point of printing his compositions in the authentic but unintelligible cacography he used. And as to old music, reverence is carried so far that too often we do not perform it at all, I suppose for fear that a passage here and there may not be interpreted aright.

Go to Sir Charles Newton or Mr. Murray, and tell him that the ‘Theseus’ and ‘Ilissus’ in the Elgin Room (I use the old conventional names) are sadly dilapidated on their surface, and that you could restore their skins to the original polish; or propose to repaint the Panathenaic frieze in the undoubted colours used by Pheidias. Tell Sir Frederick Burton or Mr. Poynter that the lights *in the ‘ Lazarus ’ and the ‘ Bacchus and Ariadne ’ have plainly gone down; and that you will carry out the ideas of Sebastian and Titian by heightening them a little. Tell him that ‘Alexander and the Family of Darius’ is full of anachronisms, and that you will re-robe the figures with strict attention to chronology and archaeology. I should like to see the looks of these public servants when you proposed it, as I should like to have seen Michael Angelo watching the ‘ Breeches-maker ’ who clothed the naked saints in his Sistine ‘ Last Judgment.’

[hitistanbul]

Gilbert and commission

Imagine the tenth part of this outrage applied to statue, picture, hymn, or poem. Suppose the Trustees of the British Museum were to call in Mr. Gilbert and commission him to restore the Parthenon torsos, to bring the fragments from the Mausoleum up to the style of the Periclean era. Suppose the Ministry of Fine Arts in France restored the arms of the Melian Aphrodite in the Louvre, or the Pope restored the legs, arms, and head to the torso beloved by Buonarroti. Europe, in either case, would ring with indignation and horror. Time was, no doubt, when these things were done, and done by clever sculptors in better ages of art than ours. But we may be fairly sure that it will never be done again.

Pictures, we know, have been restored; and, perhaps, on the sly are restored still. Years ago I saw a miscreant painting over the ‘ Peter Martyr ’ of Titian in the Church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo; and it would have been a condign punishment if the fire which consumed it had caught him red-handed in the act. They have daubed Leonardo’s ‘ Cenacolo ’ till there is nothing but a shadow left. But though a sacrilegious brush may now and then be raised against an ancient Master (just as murder, rape, and arson are not yet absolutely put down), even our great- great-grandfathers, who made the grand tour and ‘collected’ in the days of Horace Walpole, never added powder and a full wig to one of Titian’s Doges, or asked Zoffany to finish a chalk study by Michael Angelo.

Certainly Colley Cibber

I do not know that there ever was a time when people restored a poem or a piece of music. Certainly Colley Cibber restored some of Shakespeare’s plays, introducing bon ton into ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Richard HI.’ And Michael Costa would interpolate brass into Handel’s ‘Messiah.’ But in any world that claims a title to art, taste, or culture, to falsify a note or a word, either in music or in poem private tours istanbul, is rank forgery and profanity—felony without benefit of clergy. Manuscripts are searched with microscopes and collated by photographs to secure the ipsissima verba of the author. And the editor who ‘improved’ a single line of ‘Lycidas’ would be drummed out of literature to the ‘ Rogue’s March.’

In our day, happily, poem, music, picture, and statue are preserved with a loving and religious care. Picture and statue are cased in glass and air-tight chambers; for we would not beteem the winds of heaven visit their face too roughly. The rude public are kept at arms’-length; and in some countries are not suffered so much as to look at the books, engravings, and paintings for which they have paid. Worship of an. old poet is carried to the point of printing his compositions in the authentic but unintelligible cacography he used. And as to old music, reverence is carried so far that too often we do not perform it at all, I suppose for fear that a passage here and there may not be interpreted aright.

Go to Sir Charles Newton or Mr. Murray, and tell him that the ‘Theseus’ and ‘Ilissus’ in the Elgin Room (I use the old conventional names) are sadly dilapidated on their surface, and that you could restore their skins to the original polish; or propose to repaint the Panathenaic frieze in the undoubted colours used by Pheidias. Tell Sir Frederick Burton or Mr. Poynter that the lights *in the ‘ Lazarus ’ and the ‘ Bacchus and Ariadne ’ have plainly gone down; and that you will carry out the ideas of Sebastian and Titian by heightening them a little. Tell him that ‘Alexander and the Family of Darius’ is full of anachronisms, and that you will re-robe the figures with strict attention to chronology and archaeology. I should like to see the looks of these public servants when you proposed it, as I should like to have seen Michael Angelo watching the ‘ Breeches-maker ’ who clothed the naked saints in his Sistine ‘ Last Judgment.’

[istanbulfoodtour]

Gilbert and commission

Imagine the tenth part of this outrage applied to statue, picture, hymn, or poem. Suppose the Trustees of the British Museum were to call in Mr. Gilbert and commission him to restore the Parthenon torsos, to bring the fragments from the Mausoleum up to the style of the Periclean era. Suppose the Ministry of Fine Arts in France restored the arms of the Melian Aphrodite in the Louvre, or the Pope restored the legs, arms, and head to the torso beloved by Buonarroti. Europe, in either case, would ring with indignation and horror. Time was, no doubt, when these things were done, and done by clever sculptors in better ages of art than ours. But we may be fairly sure that it will never be done again.

Pictures, we know, have been restored; and, perhaps, on the sly are restored still. Years ago I saw a miscreant painting over the ‘ Peter Martyr ’ of Titian in the Church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo; and it would have been a condign punishment if the fire which consumed it had caught him red-handed in the act. They have daubed Leonardo’s ‘ Cenacolo ’ till there is nothing but a shadow left. But though a sacrilegious brush may now and then be raised against an ancient Master (just as murder, rape, and arson are not yet absolutely put down), even our great- great-grandfathers, who made the grand tour and ‘collected’ in the days of Horace Walpole, never added powder and a full wig to one of Titian’s Doges, or asked Zoffany to finish a chalk study by Michael Angelo.

Certainly Colley Cibber

I do not know that there ever was a time when people restored a poem or a piece of music. Certainly Colley Cibber restored some of Shakespeare’s plays, introducing bon ton into ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Richard HI.’ And Michael Costa would interpolate brass into Handel’s ‘Messiah.’ But in any world that claims a title to art, taste, or culture, to falsify a note or a word, either in music or in poem private tours istanbul, is rank forgery and profanity—felony without benefit of clergy. Manuscripts are searched with microscopes and collated by photographs to secure the ipsissima verba of the author. And the editor who ‘improved’ a single line of ‘Lycidas’ would be drummed out of literature to the ‘ Rogue’s March.’

In our day, happily, poem, music, picture, and statue are preserved with a loving and religious care. Picture and statue are cased in glass and air-tight chambers; for we would not beteem the winds of heaven visit their face too roughly. The rude public are kept at arms’-length; and in some countries are not suffered so much as to look at the books, engravings, and paintings for which they have paid. Worship of an. old poet is carried to the point of printing his compositions in the authentic but unintelligible cacography he used. And as to old music, reverence is carried so far that too often we do not perform it at all, I suppose for fear that a passage here and there may not be interpreted aright.

Go to Sir Charles Newton or Mr. Murray, and tell him that the ‘Theseus’ and ‘Ilissus’ in the Elgin Room (I use the old conventional names) are sadly dilapidated on their surface, and that you could restore their skins to the original polish; or propose to repaint the Panathenaic frieze in the undoubted colours used by Pheidias. Tell Sir Frederick Burton or Mr. Poynter that the lights *in the ‘ Lazarus ’ and the ‘ Bacchus and Ariadne ’ have plainly gone down; and that you will carry out the ideas of Sebastian and Titian by heightening them a little. Tell him that ‘Alexander and the Family of Darius’ is full of anachronisms, and that you will re-robe the figures with strict attention to chronology and archaeology. I should like to see the looks of these public servants when you proposed it, as I should like to have seen Michael Angelo watching the ‘ Breeches-maker ’ who clothed the naked saints in his Sistine ‘ Last Judgment.’

[istanbuldefinition]

Gilbert and commission

Imagine the tenth part of this outrage applied to statue, picture, hymn, or poem. Suppose the Trustees of the British Museum were to call in Mr. Gilbert and commission him to restore the Parthenon torsos, to bring the fragments from the Mausoleum up to the style of the Periclean era. Suppose the Ministry of Fine Arts in France restored the arms of the Melian Aphrodite in the Louvre, or the Pope restored the legs, arms, and head to the torso beloved by Buonarroti. Europe, in either case, would ring with indignation and horror. Time was, no doubt, when these things were done, and done by clever sculptors in better ages of art than ours. But we may be fairly sure that it will never be done again.

Pictures, we know, have been restored; and, perhaps, on the sly are restored still. Years ago I saw a miscreant painting over the ‘ Peter Martyr ’ of Titian in the Church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo; and it would have been a condign punishment if the fire which consumed it had caught him red-handed in the act. They have daubed Leonardo’s ‘ Cenacolo ’ till there is nothing but a shadow left. But though a sacrilegious brush may now and then be raised against an ancient Master (just as murder, rape, and arson are not yet absolutely put down), even our great- great-grandfathers, who made the grand tour and ‘collected’ in the days of Horace Walpole, never added powder and a full wig to one of Titian’s Doges, or asked Zoffany to finish a chalk study by Michael Angelo.

Certainly Colley Cibber

I do not know that there ever was a time when people restored a poem or a piece of music. Certainly Colley Cibber restored some of Shakespeare’s plays, introducing bon ton into ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Richard HI.’ And Michael Costa would interpolate brass into Handel’s ‘Messiah.’ But in any world that claims a title to art, taste, or culture, to falsify a note or a word, either in music or in poem private tours istanbul, is rank forgery and profanity—felony without benefit of clergy. Manuscripts are searched with microscopes and collated by photographs to secure the ipsissima verba of the author. And the editor who ‘improved’ a single line of ‘Lycidas’ would be drummed out of literature to the ‘ Rogue’s March.’

In our day, happily, poem, music, picture, and statue are preserved with a loving and religious care. Picture and statue are cased in glass and air-tight chambers; for we would not beteem the winds of heaven visit their face too roughly. The rude public are kept at arms’-length; and in some countries are not suffered so much as to look at the books, engravings, and paintings for which they have paid. Worship of an. old poet is carried to the point of printing his compositions in the authentic but unintelligible cacography he used. And as to old music, reverence is carried so far that too often we do not perform it at all, I suppose for fear that a passage here and there may not be interpreted aright.

Go to Sir Charles Newton or Mr. Murray, and tell him that the ‘Theseus’ and ‘Ilissus’ in the Elgin Room (I use the old conventional names) are sadly dilapidated on their surface, and that you could restore their skins to the original polish; or propose to repaint the Panathenaic frieze in the undoubted colours used by Pheidias. Tell Sir Frederick Burton or Mr. Poynter that the lights *in the ‘ Lazarus ’ and the ‘ Bacchus and Ariadne ’ have plainly gone down; and that you will carry out the ideas of Sebastian and Titian by heightening them a little. Tell him that ‘Alexander and the Family of Darius’ is full of anachronisms, and that you will re-robe the figures with strict attention to chronology and archaeology. I should like to see the looks of these public servants when you proposed it, as I should like to have seen Michael Angelo watching the ‘ Breeches-maker ’ who clothed the naked saints in his Sistine ‘ Last Judgment.’

[istanbulsophia]

Gilbert and commission

Imagine the tenth part of this outrage applied to statue, picture, hymn, or poem. Suppose the Trustees of the British Museum were to call in Mr. Gilbert and commission him to restore the Parthenon torsos, to bring the fragments from the Mausoleum up to the style of the Periclean era. Suppose the Ministry of Fine Arts in France restored the arms of the Melian Aphrodite in the Louvre, or the Pope restored the legs, arms, and head to the torso beloved by Buonarroti. Europe, in either case, would ring with indignation and horror. Time was, no doubt, when these things were done, and done by clever sculptors in better ages of art than ours. But we may be fairly sure that it will never be done again.

Pictures, we know, have been restored; and, perhaps, on the sly are restored still. Years ago I saw a miscreant painting over the ‘ Peter Martyr ’ of Titian in the Church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo; and it would have been a condign punishment if the fire which consumed it had caught him red-handed in the act. They have daubed Leonardo’s ‘ Cenacolo ’ till there is nothing but a shadow left. But though a sacrilegious brush may now and then be raised against an ancient Master (just as murder, rape, and arson are not yet absolutely put down), even our great- great-grandfathers, who made the grand tour and ‘collected’ in the days of Horace Walpole, never added powder and a full wig to one of Titian’s Doges, or asked Zoffany to finish a chalk study by Michael Angelo.

Certainly Colley Cibber

I do not know that there ever was a time when people restored a poem or a piece of music. Certainly Colley Cibber restored some of Shakespeare’s plays, introducing bon ton into ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Richard HI.’ And Michael Costa would interpolate brass into Handel’s ‘Messiah.’ But in any world that claims a title to art, taste, or culture, to falsify a note or a word, either in music or in poem private tours istanbul, is rank forgery and profanity—felony without benefit of clergy. Manuscripts are searched with microscopes and collated by photographs to secure the ipsissima verba of the author. And the editor who ‘improved’ a single line of ‘Lycidas’ would be drummed out of literature to the ‘ Rogue’s March.’

In our day, happily, poem, music, picture, and statue are preserved with a loving and religious care. Picture and statue are cased in glass and air-tight chambers; for we would not beteem the winds of heaven visit their face too roughly. The rude public are kept at arms’-length; and in some countries are not suffered so much as to look at the books, engravings, and paintings for which they have paid. Worship of an. old poet is carried to the point of printing his compositions in the authentic but unintelligible cacography he used. And as to old music, reverence is carried so far that too often we do not perform it at all, I suppose for fear that a passage here and there may not be interpreted aright.

Go to Sir Charles Newton or Mr. Murray, and tell him that the ‘Theseus’ and ‘Ilissus’ in the Elgin Room (I use the old conventional names) are sadly dilapidated on their surface, and that you could restore their skins to the original polish; or propose to repaint the Panathenaic frieze in the undoubted colours used by Pheidias. Tell Sir Frederick Burton or Mr. Poynter that the lights *in the ‘ Lazarus ’ and the ‘ Bacchus and Ariadne ’ have plainly gone down; and that you will carry out the ideas of Sebastian and Titian by heightening them a little. Tell him that ‘Alexander and the Family of Darius’ is full of anachronisms, and that you will re-robe the figures with strict attention to chronology and archaeology. I should like to see the looks of these public servants when you proposed it, as I should like to have seen Michael Angelo watching the ‘ Breeches-maker ’ who clothed the naked saints in his Sistine ‘ Last Judgment.’

[istanbul-day]

Gilbert and commission

Imagine the tenth part of this outrage applied to statue, picture, hymn, or poem. Suppose the Trustees of the British Museum were to call in Mr. Gilbert and commission him to restore the Parthenon torsos, to bring the fragments from the Mausoleum up to the style of the Periclean era. Suppose the Ministry of Fine Arts in France restored the arms of the Melian Aphrodite in the Louvre, or the Pope restored the legs, arms, and head to the torso beloved by Buonarroti. Europe, in either case, would ring with indignation and horror. Time was, no doubt, when these things were done, and done by clever sculptors in better ages of art than ours. But we may be fairly sure that it will never be done again.

Pictures, we know, have been restored; and, perhaps, on the sly are restored still. Years ago I saw a miscreant painting over the ‘ Peter Martyr ’ of Titian in the Church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo; and it would have been a condign punishment if the fire which consumed it had caught him red-handed in the act. They have daubed Leonardo’s ‘ Cenacolo ’ till there is nothing but a shadow left. But though a sacrilegious brush may now and then be raised against an ancient Master (just as murder, rape, and arson are not yet absolutely put down), even our great- great-grandfathers, who made the grand tour and ‘collected’ in the days of Horace Walpole, never added powder and a full wig to one of Titian’s Doges, or asked Zoffany to finish a chalk study by Michael Angelo.

Certainly Colley Cibber

I do not know that there ever was a time when people restored a poem or a piece of music. Certainly Colley Cibber restored some of Shakespeare’s plays, introducing bon ton into ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Richard HI.’ And Michael Costa would interpolate brass into Handel’s ‘Messiah.’ But in any world that claims a title to art, taste, or culture, to falsify a note or a word, either in music or in poem private tours istanbul, is rank forgery and profanity—felony without benefit of clergy. Manuscripts are searched with microscopes and collated by photographs to secure the ipsissima verba of the author. And the editor who ‘improved’ a single line of ‘Lycidas’ would be drummed out of literature to the ‘ Rogue’s March.’

In our day, happily, poem, music, picture, and statue are preserved with a loving and religious care. Picture and statue are cased in glass and air-tight chambers; for we would not beteem the winds of heaven visit their face too roughly. The rude public are kept at arms’-length; and in some countries are not suffered so much as to look at the books, engravings, and paintings for which they have paid. Worship of an. old poet is carried to the point of printing his compositions in the authentic but unintelligible cacography he used. And as to old music, reverence is carried so far that too often we do not perform it at all, I suppose for fear that a passage here and there may not be interpreted aright.

Go to Sir Charles Newton or Mr. Murray, and tell him that the ‘Theseus’ and ‘Ilissus’ in the Elgin Room (I use the old conventional names) are sadly dilapidated on their surface, and that you could restore their skins to the original polish; or propose to repaint the Panathenaic frieze in the undoubted colours used by Pheidias. Tell Sir Frederick Burton or Mr. Poynter that the lights *in the ‘ Lazarus ’ and the ‘ Bacchus and Ariadne ’ have plainly gone down; and that you will carry out the ideas of Sebastian and Titian by heightening them a little. Tell him that ‘Alexander and the Family of Darius’ is full of anachronisms, and that you will re-robe the figures with strict attention to chronology and archaeology. I should like to see the looks of these public servants when you proposed it, as I should like to have seen Michael Angelo watching the ‘ Breeches-maker ’ who clothed the naked saints in his Sistine ‘ Last Judgment.’

[istanbulhippodrome]

Gilbert and commission

Imagine the tenth part of this outrage applied to statue, picture, hymn, or poem. Suppose the Trustees of the British Museum were to call in Mr. Gilbert and commission him to restore the Parthenon torsos, to bring the fragments from the Mausoleum up to the style of the Periclean era. Suppose the Ministry of Fine Arts in France restored the arms of the Melian Aphrodite in the Louvre, or the Pope restored the legs, arms, and head to the torso beloved by Buonarroti. Europe, in either case, would ring with indignation and horror. Time was, no doubt, when these things were done, and done by clever sculptors in better ages of art than ours. But we may be fairly sure that it will never be done again.

Pictures, we know, have been restored; and, perhaps, on the sly are restored still. Years ago I saw a miscreant painting over the ‘ Peter Martyr ’ of Titian in the Church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo; and it would have been a condign punishment if the fire which consumed it had caught him red-handed in the act. They have daubed Leonardo’s ‘ Cenacolo ’ till there is nothing but a shadow left. But though a sacrilegious brush may now and then be raised against an ancient Master (just as murder, rape, and arson are not yet absolutely put down), even our great- great-grandfathers, who made the grand tour and ‘collected’ in the days of Horace Walpole, never added powder and a full wig to one of Titian’s Doges, or asked Zoffany to finish a chalk study by Michael Angelo.

Certainly Colley Cibber

I do not know that there ever was a time when people restored a poem or a piece of music. Certainly Colley Cibber restored some of Shakespeare’s plays, introducing bon ton into ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Richard HI.’ And Michael Costa would interpolate brass into Handel’s ‘Messiah.’ But in any world that claims a title to art, taste, or culture, to falsify a note or a word, either in music or in poem private tours istanbul, is rank forgery and profanity—felony without benefit of clergy. Manuscripts are searched with microscopes and collated by photographs to secure the ipsissima verba of the author. And the editor who ‘improved’ a single line of ‘Lycidas’ would be drummed out of literature to the ‘ Rogue’s March.’

In our day, happily, poem, music, picture, and statue are preserved with a loving and religious care. Picture and statue are cased in glass and air-tight chambers; for we would not beteem the winds of heaven visit their face too roughly. The rude public are kept at arms’-length; and in some countries are not suffered so much as to look at the books, engravings, and paintings for which they have paid. Worship of an. old poet is carried to the point of printing his compositions in the authentic but unintelligible cacography he used. And as to old music, reverence is carried so far that too often we do not perform it at all, I suppose for fear that a passage here and there may not be interpreted aright.

Go to Sir Charles Newton or Mr. Murray, and tell him that the ‘Theseus’ and ‘Ilissus’ in the Elgin Room (I use the old conventional names) are sadly dilapidated on their surface, and that you could restore their skins to the original polish; or propose to repaint the Panathenaic frieze in the undoubted colours used by Pheidias. Tell Sir Frederick Burton or Mr. Poynter that the lights *in the ‘ Lazarus ’ and the ‘ Bacchus and Ariadne ’ have plainly gone down; and that you will carry out the ideas of Sebastian and Titian by heightening them a little. Tell him that ‘Alexander and the Family of Darius’ is full of anachronisms, and that you will re-robe the figures with strict attention to chronology and archaeology. I should like to see the looks of these public servants when you proposed it, as I should like to have seen Michael Angelo watching the ‘ Breeches-maker ’ who clothed the naked saints in his Sistine ‘ Last Judgment.’

[istanbulcistern]

Gilbert and commission

Imagine the tenth part of this outrage applied to statue, picture, hymn, or poem. Suppose the Trustees of the British Museum were to call in Mr. Gilbert and commission him to restore the Parthenon torsos, to bring the fragments from the Mausoleum up to the style of the Periclean era. Suppose the Ministry of Fine Arts in France restored the arms of the Melian Aphrodite in the Louvre, or the Pope restored the legs, arms, and head to the torso beloved by Buonarroti. Europe, in either case, would ring with indignation and horror. Time was, no doubt, when these things were done, and done by clever sculptors in better ages of art than ours. But we may be fairly sure that it will never be done again.

Pictures, we know, have been restored; and, perhaps, on the sly are restored still. Years ago I saw a miscreant painting over the ‘ Peter Martyr ’ of Titian in the Church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo; and it would have been a condign punishment if the fire which consumed it had caught him red-handed in the act. They have daubed Leonardo’s ‘ Cenacolo ’ till there is nothing but a shadow left. But though a sacrilegious brush may now and then be raised against an ancient Master (just as murder, rape, and arson are not yet absolutely put down), even our great- great-grandfathers, who made the grand tour and ‘collected’ in the days of Horace Walpole, never added powder and a full wig to one of Titian’s Doges, or asked Zoffany to finish a chalk study by Michael Angelo.

Certainly Colley Cibber

I do not know that there ever was a time when people restored a poem or a piece of music. Certainly Colley Cibber restored some of Shakespeare’s plays, introducing bon ton into ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Richard HI.’ And Michael Costa would interpolate brass into Handel’s ‘Messiah.’ But in any world that claims a title to art, taste, or culture, to falsify a note or a word, either in music or in poem private tours istanbul, is rank forgery and profanity—felony without benefit of clergy. Manuscripts are searched with microscopes and collated by photographs to secure the ipsissima verba of the author. And the editor who ‘improved’ a single line of ‘Lycidas’ would be drummed out of literature to the ‘ Rogue’s March.’

In our day, happily, poem, music, picture, and statue are preserved with a loving and religious care. Picture and statue are cased in glass and air-tight chambers; for we would not beteem the winds of heaven visit their face too roughly. The rude public are kept at arms’-length; and in some countries are not suffered so much as to look at the books, engravings, and paintings for which they have paid. Worship of an. old poet is carried to the point of printing his compositions in the authentic but unintelligible cacography he used. And as to old music, reverence is carried so far that too often we do not perform it at all, I suppose for fear that a passage here and there may not be interpreted aright.

Go to Sir Charles Newton or Mr. Murray, and tell him that the ‘Theseus’ and ‘Ilissus’ in the Elgin Room (I use the old conventional names) are sadly dilapidated on their surface, and that you could restore their skins to the original polish; or propose to repaint the Panathenaic frieze in the undoubted colours used by Pheidias. Tell Sir Frederick Burton or Mr. Poynter that the lights *in the ‘ Lazarus ’ and the ‘ Bacchus and Ariadne ’ have plainly gone down; and that you will carry out the ideas of Sebastian and Titian by heightening them a little. Tell him that ‘Alexander and the Family of Darius’ is full of anachronisms, and that you will re-robe the figures with strict attention to chronology and archaeology. I should like to see the looks of these public servants when you proposed it, as I should like to have seen Michael Angelo watching the ‘ Breeches-maker ’ who clothed the naked saints in his Sistine ‘ Last Judgment.’

[spacebookettes]

A Fairytale Queen Architect

The Queen was smart... though in her time only the wealthy could be tourists: she had a vision. Literally. One evening in her Scottish German castle.

Of all the lands she ‘owned' she started building history... literary history.

Towers, gardens and follies from stories.. statues of fiction. She started in Scotland. A rickety looking though solid, high tapering stone tube with no entrance. On top a wooden Elizabethan beamed and daubed vaulted room with one window, carved wooden hair reaching out and down to meet stone locks of rock, down and taut to the ground. A little grave stone at the bottom ornately carved, only with no name.

In india a colossus of sorts. Two feet astride a pond, a large pond, and as tall as a scottish tower. These places were hidden. You have to walk to them, no road goes their way. Little places hidden out of the way. Many as tall as a pond statue.

Also gardens. Many poor people had to lose their houses so enriching gardens could be built for their neighbours. High stone and brick walled community courtyards. Experimental gardens. Fruit trees. Planting from around the world. Little ponds with sculpture nursery rhymes dancing around the edges. And one day metal railings. Always Metal railings on the entrances; gates closed at sunset. We can’t have after dark fun for the singletons.

Lots of ornately carved magical wishing wells in Africa. And wizard bridges. Hospitals?!

The worlds literary history given to the world. And a vision of a future tourist world for everyone.

The end

By Peter Stringer

New shark

A new species of shark the news said. Just a small article somewhere. The scientists were baffled, nothing had been seen quite like it. And it was very evasive. When spotted the drones were sent out to take samples. The shark seemed to recognise them every time and funnily would not be sampled. The special submarines only caught glimpses of the new shark species. Divers in metal chains couldn’t keep up. This new shark seemed to have higher intelligence. “It’s definitely pregnant.”

The new shark liked to hang out just out of reach of the coastlines in tropical warm waters. They don’t know what it is feeding on. Rex someone called it. Only one had been spotted, they believed always the same one, it seemed to like the attention.

Unbeknownst to the scientists and the little bit of the worlds press who cared... the new shark was from another planet. Dropped into earths oceans, by accident or on purpose we can not be sure of.

The end

By Peter Stringer

UFO

The car was stuck, in some brambles and a ditch. The moon has a skanky green tint. At least there was some light. No houses though and the smart brooch can’t find reception. No sign of a farmhouse, not even a decaying old farm building. He walks along the road a little, the comfort of flashing hazard lights still visible. But a cold corner in the road makes him hesitate. Pitch blackness apart from his brooch torch light just hinting at distant road edges. He looks back to the moon and decides to stay in it’s guiding. Across a field, perhaps some life over the hill then. At the top of the hill he looks down onto a forest, wonders if there is a hidden gingerbread cottage inside it. He turns back and looks down to the still blinking distant amber. The full moon looks massive from this vantage. Still a hint green though. It’s light casts at the edges of his limbs as he moves his hands and fingers, collecting the skanky colour. The moon goes out in a flash.

The man drops to the peak of his what now feels like a mountain. Pitch blackness. He looks down for the comfort of orange blinking and hears a car radio channel surfing in the blackness. The radio stops at the generic pop music. “is this my ends music, to die with such blandness harping.” Two blue circles of light and a red one appear where the moon was. Very low light though, almost not light. Total silence. Not one owl to save him. The lights start spinning dizzyingly.

He wakes up, it’s still night time. On the top of the hill; the moon back now, massive, no longer mouldy. He feels something twitching in his lips as though a parasite were inside behind them.

The end

By Peter Stringer

Blushing Bind

Excellent, no more problems of race. The genetically modified humans can be any colour, their skin and also their hair: texture as well, a little. Some people can write brail all over their bodies... Imagine the dirty talk. Secret chats, with just a little contact, also. Some people can make patterns. Most people can’t control their emotions and it shows in a myriad of textures, colors and geometry. Some people can teach you camouflage. Some people can teach you maths. The fashion designers are naturals. The adverts are often rude. Everyone is the Grinch at least once.

By Peter Stringer

[terrifiesbullies-a]

@terrifiesthem​ [press play before reading]

It was raining that day. 

Steve had never felt so anxious or nervous about anything in his whole life. War? That was easy. Fighting impossible things? A breeze. Asking a person he’d never imagined he’d ever have the opportunity to fall in love with to marry him? Fucking nerve wracking.

Their relationship was beyond unconventional. How they came together as partners was unexpected and coming to love one another was just as much. Though it seemed neither had opted to question it, rather just let themselves be happy in the long unspoken bond. Why complicate a thing that didn’t need words?

They’d been together for a few years at that point. They weren’t broadcasting it, but they weren’t hiding it either, if asked they answered honestly. They were happy, they didn’t need everyone to know about them to feel validated. And when their lives calmed down as much as it could for people in ‘their line of work’, they made a home together. Nothing over the top, just something that was theirs.

It was cold and he remembers being soaked. Blue eyes wide, hands shaking.

They’d come back from a mission that seemed like it was nearly going to claim Frank. It wasn’t the first time and he knew it wasn’t going to be the last, but it struck something inside of Steve. He’d been trying, once again in vain, to get Frank to not go as hard as he did, and it ended in some kind of argument that stuck them in out in the rain in their backyard. Steve stood there, trying to reason with his partner, because unlike Steve…. Frank wasn’t nearly as indestructible. Before the captain was even aware of himself, he’d grabbed his marine by the shoulders and pulled him, lips sealed together. Foreheads are pressed together, wide blue eyes staring into dark brown.

“Well that’s one way to wi––” “Marry me.” “Rogers?” “I’m not good at this Frank, but I’m serious, marry me… I mean… shit… will you marry me?” “……” “I don’t have a ring, I didn’t plan this but I’m not… I’m not backing down from my question because I realized today that if I gotta share a foxhole with someone for the rest of my unnaturally long life I’d prefer it be you.”

Steve is well and truly terrified, hands trembling as he blinks away the cold rain that was washing away all evidence, all blood, any signs of their mission prior to this moment. The captain sinks down onto a knee and just keeps his eyes on the other’s. It felt like forever before the man above him gave him a small amount of shit before saying yes in his own way. For a moment Steve couldn’t breathe, but it was okay, because in seconds he was going to be up in Frank’s space, lips sealed together again. He could steal the breath back from his marine.

A date was set, guest list set, invites sent, wedding planned.

See… unlike Frank, Steve had never done this before, never been married, much less ever imagined it would and could be with another man. He was ungodly nervous. Naturally Bucky and Sam gave him shit. Guests filed in, mostly military and supers. There had to be some tradition to it, Steve was a somewhat religious man still. Not too big, not too small. Steve held to the old superstition of neither of them seeing each other before the ceremony (Frank had given him such shit for it, but it was loving either way).

First those on Steve’s side came in, then those on Frank’s. Steve was the first one in and when he saw Frank in his uniform, he couldn’t help but get choked up, a hand briefly coming up to cover his mouth. Steve had opted to wear what would have been his dress uniform back in the 40s. Medals and all. When Frank reached the altar, Steve couldn’t stop grinning. He didn’t think he ever would either, not after this moment. Vows were exchanged and so were rings. It was all unconventional, but it was perfectly them. After they kissed, which is about when Steve stopped being able to hold it all in and tears are just streaming down his face, they take each others’ hands and proceed out, procession in tow.

They have but a moment alone and Steve holds his husband by the face and he can’t stop kissing him and laughing like an idiot through his tears. He swears his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. Steve can’t recall the last time he was this genuinely happy. They move out to the car that takes them to the venue for the reception. Steve, still a mess, leans his head against Frank’s, just smiling the entire ride over.

Guests settle into their assigned tables. They’re once again introduced as a married couple and take their seats at their table. Their best men and some friends give their prepared speeches, and Steve squeezes Frank’s hand under the table as his chest tightens and he realizes this is the most normalcy either of them have seen in a long time. Dinner was served and eaten throughout the speeches. They cut the cake and naturally one of them can’t stop themselves from putting a daub of icing on the other’s nose.

They’re introduced for their first dance and the moment they’re close, foreheads pressed together as the first note hits on the piano. That’s when thunder rumbles across the sky, and the sound of rainfall begins. Rain hadn’t been in the forecast. Steve is crying all over again as they begin to gently sway and waltz to a song by a band Peter had introduced him to. 

“How fitting…” “What’s that?” “It was raining that day… a year ago.” “Oh yeah, I guess was wasn’t it?” “Yeah… and I was shaking and crying then too.” “You were crying?” “Mhm… just harder to notice when rain is pouring down on you I guess.” “The fuck am I gonna do with you Rogers?”

Steve just laughs, and it’s one of the few times Steve sees that little smile on Frank’s face, the kind that shows he’s genuinely happy and it’s almost… sheepish in nature. However, to Steve it’s the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen in his entire life and he hopes to God that he gets to see it so many more times. He’s looking forward to a lifetime of all of the little smiles Frank will share with him. The sleepy smiles in the morning when they woke up. The tired smiles when they’re both on a job or a mission and they’re both beat to hell and Steve has said something kind of dumb that amuses Frank. The somewhat patronizing smiles when Steve makes a stupid joke or pun. The sly little smiles when Frank is making fun of Steve.

And every other kind of smile. Steve looks forward to them all.

As they slowly waltz, dancing cheek to cheek, an arm winds further around Frank, hand on his back, chin rested against a broad shoulder in that uniform. Steve just breathes him in, immortalizes them moment in his mind. A kiss is pressed to that clothed shoulder.

“You clean up nice Marine… never looked more handsome… had me real choked up.” “Eh you’re not so bad yourself sir…” “But you’re never gonna look more gorgeous than when you do in the mornings, tired or beat to shit, trying to hide your face from the sunlight, or grumpy and half asleep… and I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow knowing I get to see that for the rest of the time we got left on this earth together.” “Steve….” “I am so lucky you’re mine. I love you so much…”

Steve was going to spend the rest of forever telling Frank that. For now he falls silent. There is nothing left to say, so they just dance to the gorgeous song that Steve felt best conveyed his feelings and the rain that had decided to join it and them once again on the day that they kept true to theirs words just as it had on the day they made them.

                       𝒾𝓃  𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒  𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔  𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈,                                 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎  𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈  𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒…                                                𝒷𝓊𝓉  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓌𝒶𝓎  𝐼  𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁,                                                       𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁  𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃  𝓉𝒽𝑒  𝓈𝒶𝓂𝑒…

                                                𝓁𝒶𝓎  𝓊𝓈  𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃,                                                        𝓌𝑒'𝓇𝑒  𝒾𝓃  𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒…

[gyrlversion]

Semi-naked climate change protesters interrupt debate on Brexit

Semi-naked climate change protesters interrupted a Commons debate on Brexit tonight as they stripped off in the public gallery.

Several of the ‘Extinction Rebellion’ group glued themselves to the window dividing MPs from the watching public in the biggest Commons security breach since 2014. 

Labour MP Peter Kyle joked about the ‘naked truth’ as MPs’ attention was distracted from his speech by the demonstration.

Tory MP James Heappey defied Commons rules to photograph the dozen people, who had slogans including ‘climate justice act now’ and ‘eco collapse’ daubed on their backs. 

Speaker John Bercow told MPs to ignore the demonstration and continue with the debate as they stood in a line with their backsides pressed against the security glass.  

Most were wearing only thong-style underwear which left little to the imagination. 

Shocked MPs including former Labour leader Ed Miliband glanced up at the group as they stripped off behind the glass screen that separate the chamber from the public gallery.

Some of the protesters were singing Nelly the Elephant while under the gaze of Parliamentarians.

Savannah, an English literature student from Ladbroke Grove in west London, was one of the naked protesters.

She said: ‘A bunch of people glued themselves to the window in the public gallery.

‘Everyone stripped and two people were elephants and had climate crisis written on them.

‘We were pointing at them as the elephants in the room of the Brexit debate.’

Twelve climate change protesters were later arrested on suspicion of outraging public decency, Scotland Yard said. 

Semi-naked climate change protesters interrupted a Commons debate on Brexit tonight as they stripped off in the public gallery

Former Labour leader Ed Miliband was among the MPs surprised by the sudden appearance of the half-naked protesters above them

Tory MP James Heappey defied Commons rules to photograph the dozen people, one of whom had ‘climate justice now’ daubed on his back

She added: ‘Personally I don’t care that much about Brexit.

‘I think it’s fine that people do but I think there are bigger things right now.

The semi-naked demonstration is the most significant breach of security in the public gallery since a man hurled a bag of marbles at the glass screen in October 2014.

The barrier was erected to separate MPs from the public after Tony Blair was pelted with purple powder during PMQs in 2004.  

Police officers removed today’s demonstration, which failed to halt debate on the floor of the Commons, after around 30 minutes, using an unidentified liquid to free their hands.

Several of them refused to walk out with police and had to be carried out from the gallery as Commons doorkeepers picked up their abandoned clothes.

All other members of the public who turned out to watch the debate were also asked to leave. 

The protesters were questioned by police officers stationed in the House of Parliament outside the Common chamber.

In order to get into the public gallery, members of the public are subjected to airport style security at the entrances to the Palace of Westminster.

They then simply queue up to enter the gallery itself on a first-come, first-served basis.

Extinction Rebellion promises ‘non-violent direct action and civil disobedience’ to make their point on climate change. 

Tory Nick Boles used the demonstration to make a joke at the expense of some of his colleagues.

The Grantham MP, who rose to speak in support of his Common Market 2.0 Brexit plan which will be put to a vote in the Commons tonight, said: ‘I find myself wondering whether it’s a coincidence entirely that the people who normally sit around me on these benches are not here, given that we all know that among them are counted noted naturists.’

Mr Boles added: ‘It has long been a thoroughly British trait to be able to ignore pointless nakedness, and I trust the House will be able to return to the issue that we are discussing.’

Labour MP Justin Madders said: ‘There are naked people in the Commons gallery, I don’t know what the point is that they are making but it doesn’t seem to be adding anything to the debate.’ 

Tory minister Mims Davies said: ‘The campaigners in House of Commons gallery have managed to get naked, glue their hands to the glass but most interestingly as well some retain their security lanyards if not many clothes.’ 

And Brexit hardliner Andrea Jenkyns said: ‘And they say Brexiteers are extremists! I ain’t getting my clothes off, Even for Brexit. Mad world!’ 

An Extinction Rebellion spokesman said the naked protest was an effort ‘to try and force the issue up the news agenda as far as possible so it breaks through the Brexit Radar’.

‘They have gone in there knowing they will be arrested. They are willingly doing this,’ he added.   

Theresa May (pictured today at Downing Street) has been warned she will ‘destroy’ the Tory party if she caves in to calls for a soft Brexit – while Brexiteers urged her to pursue No Deal

Feuding MPs had earlier been told to vote on four alternatives to Theresa May’s Brexit deal tonight amid fevered speculation she could force an election to end the impasse.

Speaker John Bercow selected proposals for a customs union, Norway-style soft Brexit, second referendum and cancelling Brexit in the second round of indicative votes tonight.

Versions of all four plans failed to get a majority of MPs last week but after Mrs May’s deal was trounced for a third time on Friday cross-party alliances are shifting as Parliament moves to impose a softer Brexit.

The idea of a permanent customs union – which would rule out post-Brexit trade deals – was the strongest option in last week’s debate and the racing favourite ahead of the ballot tonight.

But Labour has switched position to back a Norway-style deal that stays in the single market and customs union during trade talks. If it happened free movement would continue for years with no deadline.  

Whatever MPs vote on tonight, Mrs May has summoned her ministers to an epic Cabinet tomorrow – fuelling speculation she is getting ready for the ‘nuclear’ option of an election despite her deep unpopularity in her own party. 

Instead of the usual 90-minute discussion, Tory ministers will spend three hours locked in talks without officials from 9am – meaning they can discuss party politics and how to tackle the Brexit endgame in light of the results.

There will then be a normal two-hour Cabinet where the Government can take decisions on the fate of the nation. 

Boris Johnson, pictured cycling to Parliament today, and Michael Gove, pictured leaving home today are the two favourites to replace Theresa May when she leaves No 10

Most Tory MPs have a free vote on the alternatives to Mrs May’s deal tonight, with 25 or more junior ministers predicted to be ready to back a softer Brexit.   

Cabinet ministers have been told to abstain, but, with a growing rift between Remainers and Brexiteers in the Government, some could still choose to vote for a customs union and resign. 

All eyes will be on the 10 ministers known to back a customs union with the EU if Theresa May’s deal is killed off, including the ‘gang of four’ cabinet remainers: Work and Pensions Secretary Amber Rudd, Justice Secretary David Gauke, Business Secretary Greg Clark and Scottish Secretary David Mundell. 

They would be willing to quit if Mrs May pushes for a No Deal Brexit and could do it by defying her order to abstain in tonight’s indicative votes. 

But Tory Brexiteer Jacob Rees-Mogg today admitted he is ‘very concerned’ that Theresa May will add a customs union onto her Brexit deal to get it through Parliament.

He told LBC radio: ‘My concern is that the Prime Minister is more concerned to avoid a No Deal Brexit than anything else. And therefore I am very concerned that she could decide to go for a customs union tacked onto her deal.’

Mr Rees-Mogg also claimed that last Friday’s vote on the Brexit deal would ‘probably have gone through’ if it had been Mrs May’s deal versus a general election. 

MPs to vote on a customs union, soft Brexit, a second referendum or cancelling Brexit

None of the eight alternatives to Prime Minister Theresa May’s deal were approved last week after Parliament seized control of the Commons agenda. 

Commons Speaker John Bercow has whittled them down, and is putting four rival Brexit plans to the Commons tonight. He selected a UK-EU customs union, soft Norway-style Brexit, second referendum and cancelling Brexit. 

Ahead of the second round, the customs union and second referendum were the leading options. 

Motion C: Customs union with the EU

Tory former chancellor Ken Clarke’s customs union plan requires any Brexit deal to include, as a minimum, a commitment to negotiate a ‘permanent and comprehensive UK-wide customs union with the EU’. 

This is where tonight’s vote could get interesting. This amendment last week lost by the tightest margin of them all.

It went down by eight votes, losing by 272 to 264. It means that a handful of MPs changing their mind could see it across the line. 

But the SNP and Lib Dems abstained last time so those votes may not be easy to find on the polarised Tory and Labour benches. 

And it if did win it would cause havoc in the Government with Brexiteers going on the warpath. 

Motion D: Common market 2.0

A cross-party motion tabled by Conservatives Nick Boles, Robert Halfon and Dame Caroline Spelman and Labour’s Stephen Kinnock, Lucy Powell plus the SNP’s Stewart Hosie.

The motion proposes UK membership of the European Free Trade Association and European Economic Area. It allows continued participation in the single market and a ‘comprehensive customs arrangement’ with the EU after Brexit – including a ‘UK say’ on future EU trade deals – would remain in place until the agreement of a wider trade deal which guarantees frictionless movement of goods and an open border in Ireland.

Despite Labour backing last week this lost by almost 100 votes, 283 to 188. But 167 MPs abstained on it, including the DUP. If the Northern Irish party could be talked in to backing it there could be some movement. 

Motion E: Second referendum to approve any Brexit deal 

Drawn up by Labour MPs Peter Kyle and Phil Wilson, this motion would require a public vote to confirm any Brexit deal passed by Parliament before its ratification.

This option, tabled last time by Labour former minister Dame Margaret Beckett, polled the highest number of votes, although was defeated by 295 votes to 268. 

Labour MPs were whipped to support it but 27 mainly from northern Leave-voting areas voted against it and a further 18 – including several frontbenchers – abstained. 

Their support would have been enough to pass it but it seems unlikely they will change their minds, given that their concerns remain the same. 

Motion G: Parliamentary supremacy

SNP MP Joanna Cherry joins with Mr Grieve and MPs from other parties with this plan to seek an extension to the Brexit process to allow Parliament and the Government to achieve a Brexit deal.

 If if this is not possible then Parliament will choose between either no-deal or revoking Article 50. 

An inquiry would follow to assess the future relationship likely to be acceptable to Brussels and have majority support in the UK.  

Senior ministers have warned the Prime Minister she would ‘destroy’ the Tory party and put Jeremy Corbyn in Downing Street if she gives in to demands to adopt a soft Brexit. 

If she were to give way to a softer Brexit, Mrs May would provoke a furious reaction from Brexiteers, with International Development Secretary Penny Mordaunt and Transport Secretary Chris Grayling among the ministers reportedly ready to resign. 

But more than 170 Tory MPs, including 10 Cabinet ministers, have already signed a blunt, two-paragraph letter to Mrs May reminding her of the party’s manifesto commitment to take Britain out of both the customs union and the single market.

The letter urges her to take the UK out of the EU without a deal on April 12 if she cannot get her own deal through Parliament in the coming days. 

Today Chief Secretary to the Treasury Liz Truss said: ‘I don’t have any fear of No Deal – what would be worse is if we don’t Brexit at all’. 

But, fuelling expectations Mrs May will try a fourth vote on her deal, she said: ‘I think the answer lies in modifications to the Prime Minister’s deal to be able to get that to have support.’

She also warned the PM against lurching towards a customs union deal because ‘it’s not clear that going softer is the way to command support’ – but ruled out quitting.  

Labour is to support the Common Market 2.0 option for Brexit (participation in the single market and a ‘comprehensive customs arrangement’ with the EU including a ‘UK say’ on future EU trade deals) in Monday’s indicative votes in the House of Commons, as well as other options which the party backed last week: a customs union and a second referendum on any deal. 

The Common Market 2.0 plan would not end freedom of movement from the EU.

Jeremy Corbyn’s decision is expected to push one or more of these indicative votes over the line tonight.

A Labour spokesman said: ‘In line with our policy, we’re supporting motions to keep options on the table to prevent a damaging Tory deal or No Deal, build consensus across the House to break the deadlock and deliver an outcome that can work for the whole country’.

Mrs May’s deal has now fallen three times in the Commons, with dozens of Tory MPs among those who voted against it on each occasion.

Today Conservative backbencher Richard Drax apologised for backing her EU divorce on Friday.  

The South Dorset MP said he should have trusted his instincts ‘and those of the British people’ when he voted on the withdrawal agreement on Friday.

Addressing the House of Commons, Mr Drax said: ‘I made the wrong call on Friday’.

He added: ‘If the Prime Minister cannot commit to taking us out of the EU on April 12, she must resign immediately.

‘This is no longer about leave or remain. That was decided in 2016. This is about the future of our great country.’ 

DUP Brexit spokesman Sammy Wilson also claimed his party will reject her deal even if it was brought back to the Commons ‘a thousand times’.

He said: ‘As far as the Withdrawal Agreement is concerned and the motion before us is concerned, our position has not changed.

‘We have sought to, over the last number of weeks, work with the Government to try and find a way of either getting legal assurances or legislative changes which would enable us to move this process on – we want to see a deal because we want out of the European Union, and we want to have a clear path as to how we do that.

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