G.lit(z)ch

 G.lit(z)ch mask

G.lit(z)ch mask

Whilst rummaging through the bric-a-brac at a local church fete, Millicent found an old 70’s
labyrinth lunchbox for £1. She was extremely pleased with this having googled the box prior to
purchase and discovering that it was currently going for a song on eBay.

 The lunchbox

The lunchbox


Wanting new boots more than a new church roof Millicent kept this information to herself and
haggled the priest down to 50p.


Imagine her disappointment upon returning home when not only did she find on closer inspection
that the lunchbox she had googled was a rare factory defect showing Bowie with an extra testicle and that, in fact, her box was indeed worth a pound, but that it was also host to the spirit of glam rock.

 Evidence later found at police auction

Evidence later found at police auction


Ghosts in the 70s were really depressing. They were either super creepy and violent or inspired girls to jump around on a bed experimenting with shutter speeds (not in an interesting way)

Ghosts from the 70s are amazing.

G.lit(z)ch* proved keen to stay with Millicent although initially she wasn’t sure, what with him being a little creepy and also quite persistently keen to possess her and buy knock off Sweet compendiums.

 G.lit(z)ch onstage in the 70s

G.lit(z)ch onstage in the 70s

She tried exorcism, but the Catholic Church proved as unready for Stomping Fuzz box guitar and
androgyny as they had been the first time around, and many a priest left unsuccessful.
Stuck with him but eventually glad of the company G.lit(z)ch came with Millicent when she joined
our rag tag bunch of misfits.

G.lit(z)ch doesn’t speak per se but rather hums at low intensity the riff from Get it on by T.Rex, and when they stop you somehow know what they wanted.

It’s oddly arousing.

You can tell the work directly by G.lit(z)ch, it’s the excessive glam rock icon series - G.lit(z)ch sends one or other of us into a trance and when we wake up we’re wearing an unzipped cat suit
surrounded by bottles of champagne and feathers. We are not always alone. But there is always a
new canvas.

*We found this written in lipstick on the bathroom mirror one night.

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