All pop stars have their stalkers – while most
are merely a nuisance, others can be rather irksome.

Take the case of Rory Rocking Rogers,
my stage name, who became the victim of a
fame-obsessed denizen of the ocean.

While making a pop video in Ilfracombe,
that famed resort in the English county of Devonshire,
to promote new single, I’m Ravaged By Your Devotion,
the make-up lady told me she loved my curly wurlies,
and I admired her great skill, this wielder of brush and comb.

Later, as we scoffed fish and chips, she said, her mouth full of battered cod,
‘Tasty, but make no bones about it, this product of the sea should be filleted.

'By the way, you don’t seem to have changed much,
as a child you appear to have been quite an exhibitionist.

‘I followed your career, if you can call it that,
and had you down as a fraud, just like me.’

Then she whispered, ‘I’d like to confess, I’m not really a woman.’

Taking a curved fish bone out of her mouth, she made a grab for my ear with it, 
and in that instant I recognised my assailant, 
whom I’d first encountered on top of a Kerry mountain, the year before.

It was the legendary Miss Monkfish Monserrat, famed denizen of the deep and shape shifter.

Our paths had crossed on top of Ireland’s highest mountain, Carrantoiul,
where I was filming a climbing scene to go with my new single, 
Falling For You, in collaboration with Irish boy band The McFiddleydiddleos.

But it all went pear-shaped when a woman appeared out of the mist,
clad in seaweed and fish bones, singing, ‘Blow the wind high, blow the wind low.’

Then the band ran off shouting, ‘That’s the last time we do any of your videos!’

But the mist-covered woman cried, ‘Come back! I want to sing with you.’

‘Go away,’ I shouted, ‘you sing better than I do, I’d be shunted to harmonies.’

But the wind blew hard, and I was lifted off my feet to land in a bog.

I wondered, ‘Surely this strange weather was pure coincidence,
and not anything supernatural.’

Wandering in a storm, I slept in a cave decorated with drawings of small men,
with toes sticking out of their shoes, and dreamt I’d become a real celebrity,
for, after revealing I’d survived the attack of a fish-like woman, I was inundated with invites to spin this remarkable tale.

I awoke in this remote hole in a mountain to stark reality, as the sun shone through curtains made of wool, revealing myself, a musical has been, who’d felt embarrassed that he'd been frightened by an eccentric woman,
doubltess regarded as a local 'nutter'.

But I cheered after Old Mother Littlemull,
on peering into my rocky shelter,
took me to her little home on the shores of a reed-covered loch,
reviving my spirit with a pint of goat’s milk, 
saying, ‘Your dream will be realised, but you’ll need help.’

She told me I’d been blown into a wondrous vale, 
known as The Place Of Little People With Big Toes,
known only to fishermen who catch the Cacophonous Carp,
found within the above-mentioned body of water, and warned,
‘Beware of the serpent said to reside within.’

I laughed, thinking this was a Kerry version of the one in Loch Ness,
but due to modern technology failing to find any such beast, was largely forgotten.

Then a head appeared out of the water, and I recognised the
singing creature of the mist, who looked at my sodden clothes.

‘Ha ha,’ she laughed, ‘serve you right, you vainglorious twit.’

Then she winked, adding, ‘I hear your next shoot is in Devon.’

‘I am a frequent visitor to that fair county, using that old tunnel built by the fairies,
for I love the Devonish ice cream, in the town of Ilfracombe.’

‘Your hair’s a right mess, so I’ll bring my brush and comb.’

Which explains why I ended up, a year after my Kerry adventures,
having my hair styled by a stalking, shape-shifting,
amphibious make-up woman, in the town of Ilfracombe,
where I’d gone to make another music video.

You see, I’d finally made the charts, with the help of Miss Montserrat,
and every night I was ‘Ravaged By Her Devotion.’

But what really helped was that she brought along
her girlfriends as backing singers,
who, though scaly of skin, were in a fishy-like way, quite pretty.

This was of huge boost to my musical endeavours,
as I got myself a boy band, for free.

For those handsome young men, The McFiddleydiddleos,
became entranced at the sight of the newly-arrived sexy water dwellers,
prompting lead singer, Fergus McFling,
to say to me, ‘We’ll definitely do more of your pop videos!’