The Lyre of Erato is a newspaper published by Lady Sapho L. Byron. Perhaps it would be better to say, “it is a ‘newspaper’ published by Lady Byron.” Not, course, that you have read the filthy scandal rag, but even the noblest of ears will be sullied by wicked gossip in London. Perhaps it would also be better to say, “it is a ‘newspaper’ published by ‘Lady’ Byron”. You rather doubt she is an actual Lady (what’s her coat of arms? parted legs? haha!) and that Sapho L. Byron is her real name. And she can’t even spell Sappho correctly! Not that you’ve read that poet.
The point is, that yes, occasionally an edition of the Lyre has been seen in your house (you really must speak to the help about what they leave laying about), and that yes you have occasionally, accidentally, glanced at a open page, so it is possible that you may have seen a political cartoon depicting a great crowd watching Sinning Jenny, the Bishop of Southwark, and the Jovail Contrarian perform circus acrobatics. At the edge of the crowd (although you would only see this if you looked closely, which you wouldn’t, and so you haven’t), a young woman stands slightly apart; she alone has her eyes turned to the Bazaar, towering in the background. [li]
edited by Lady Sapho Byron on 7/7/2016[/li][li]
edited by Lady Sapho Byron on 7/7/2016
[color=#c2c2c2]Interestingly, the newspaper stresses that the woman portrayed is definitely not Millicent Clathermont. However in greyscale these sort of women all look the same anyway. She stands slightly apart, her legs also slightly apart.[/color]
[color=#c2c2c2]Zoe snorts and pass on the newspaper to the other costermongers as she prepare for the morning rush.[/color]
Eli opens the door carefully. “Ezekiel… What are you reading?”
Oh, was that the paper last night’s fish and chips were wrapped in? I wondered.
Flesh-Stick once wallpapered the Firebrand’s bedroom with copies of The Lyre. Everyone had a good laugh. Except the Firebrand, who was so disgusted he now sleeps in the bathtub.
Mathieu Psmith, a known associate and old friend, is regular reader of the Lyre, and will occasionally submit letters to the editor in which he will, for a joke, treat it as an entirely serious publication:
Your cartoonist has increased in more in skill than perspicacity. It is easy enough to see the election as a distraction from the real center of power in London, but who is the ringleader of this circus? And why was such a ploy not deemed necessary until now? It is to be hoped that the reporting staff of the Lyre are not remiss in their investigations.
Maria, while never having heardbof Sappho (or any other greek poet for that matter), and certainly not having any hired help, accidentaly found a copy of the Lyre, which is burried between notes and scandalous, erotic novels.[li]