Sydenham Broadcasting Cooperation

K-LINE

Agent Love, reporting for duty. I knew the time for Love would come. Whatever else you can justifiably say about the KLFRS they certainly have long memories and an effective debt recovery operation.

So the K-Line had been uncovered, that much we knew. From the events of 23rd November in Liverpool it was clear that the KLFRS were on to something, but what exactly? When the call came through requesting operational support in the southern quadrant I couldn’t refuse. This was my territory and duty called.

I approached the origin of the K-Line from the southern aspect, cautious of what lie ahead. If, as is sometimes rumoured, the K-Line extends southwards then it also bisects the Brixton Academy, site of one of the earliest KLF performance in 1989, immediately before they fled to Chipping Norton, perhaps along this very road.

Despite having lived nearby for 23 years, I had never needed to walk down Jeffreys Road before. I could feel I was close to the source, and nearly walked by, but a melody from a past life pulled me back and I stopped outside number 55. All the fives, five alive, fives rule.

I adorned a conveniently located sign with the designated markings, and became lost in my mind as I contemplated the energies that had poured outwards from here. Could they all really have flowed down the K-Line? Or could they have flowed elsewhere too? Although it seemed a long time ago, surely the signs would still be there if I looked hard enough.
As I reflected, and followed the line northwest from its squat party origins, it took me towards Larkhall Park. Stockwell residents Jerry Dammers, Joanna Lumley and Adam Buxton would doubtless have spent time here chilling out to Chill Out and raving to Stadium House, so I marked the spot.
Continuing northwest through the park, along the K-line led me past Courland Grove (formerly Zion Hill) Baptist Church that, as far as I could tell, had no KLF connections whatsoever. Very suspicious. I marked the spot accordingly.

Leaving the park, and following the K-Line through tangled streets led me towards Nine Elms Market, and then to Covent Garden Flower Market where finally my patience was rewarded.

This sign was almost too blatant, and the arrow pointing the wrong way was a dead giveaway – someone had been here before me and was trying to throw me off the scent. I decided not to play their game and left the fnord unmarked as though it were unseen – the only rational response. But the attempted distraction meant I must be close, else why bother?

I turned around, and after a short distance spotted the eye in the pyramid. This was too easy.

As I approached the source of the power the scale of the task became clear. A standing stone already marked the exact spot where the K-Line entered Battersea Power Station, immortalised by Pink Floyd, immanentised by The Orb (minus Jimmy), and now to be occupied by a less than golden Apple. Of course, it was all becoming clear, this was the spot, and it needed to be marked. And so it was.
Approaching the point where the K-Line meets The Thames, and forever leaves my territory for the perpetual grimness of North London, I looked back towards Trancentral and felt the power surge through me towards Mathew St. My debt to The KLFRS was settled. For now.
Or so I thought. My curiosity about what might lay inside was piqued. I descended the stairs and located the path of the K-Line through a bookshop. Only it was selling bricks, not books, and for 55 pounds (not 99). All the fives, five alive. 2 plus 3 equals what the fuuk is going on?