Bedankt voor het vertrouwen het afgelopen jaar! Om jou te bedanken bieden we GRATIS verzending (in België) aan op alles gedurende de hele maand januari.

Afhalen na 1 uur in een winkel met voorraad
In januari gratis thuislevering in België
Ruim aanbod met 7 miljoen producten

Bedankt voor het vertrouwen het afgelopen jaar! Om jou te bedanken bieden we GRATIS verzending (in België) aan op alles gedurende de hele maand januari.

Afhalen na 1 uur in een winkel met voorraad
In januari gratis thuislevering in België
Ruim aanbod met 7 miljoen producten

Winkels

Verlanglijstje

Winkels

Verlanglijstje

Zoeken

Volg ons op

140 winkels

Wist je dat er in Vlaanderen voor iedereen een Standaard Boekhandel is binnen een straal van 7 km?

Vind hier een winkel

€ 2,99

+ 2 punten

Onmiddellijk beschikbaar

Eenvoudig bestellen

Veilig betalen

Onmiddellijk geleverd via e-mail

Omschrijving

The Laughing Lobotomist is a book for readers who have misplaced their seriousness—and discovered something far stranger in the lost‑and‑found. This collection of darkly satirical, surreal poems giggles in the face of logic, pirouettes through pathology, and stitches absurdity directly into the folds of the cerebral cortex. Here, nonsense is medicinal, humour is a scalpel, and the mind is both patient and punchline.

Your journey begins in the Clinic of Cognitive Whimsy, a sterile hallway that smells faintly of antiseptic and badly timed jokes. Fluorescent lights flicker in Morse code, tapping out forgotten punchlines. A polite sign on the wall advises: Please remove your expectations. Inside, the receptionist—a taxidermied flamingo in a lab coat—hums Bach backwards while stamping forms that don't exist. Patients shuffle past wearing mismatched socks and existential dread. One man carries his frontal lobe in a jar labelled For Reprocessing. Another refuses to sit unless his chair has a thesis statement.

Then the Laughing Lobotomist arrives. Top hat askew, scalpel holstered like a quill, he communicates only through giggles—precise, surgical giggles that slice through delusion with unnerving accuracy. His procedures are poetic: extracting cynicism through limericks, rewiring despair with spoon metaphors, prescribing absurdity in rhymed couplets. He is part surgeon, part jester, part mythic trickster performing cognitive alchemy.

The operating theatre doubles as a stage. Curtains rise. The audience consists of coat hangers, half‑written manifestos, and a teacup with performance anxiety. Each poem becomes a case file: diagnosing the human condition with satire, treating it with surrealism, and discharging it with a bandage shaped like a question mark. These verses wander through the mind's back alleys, where socks debate philosophy, spoons elope with dignity, and logic is politely asked to wait outside.

This is not medicine. It is mythic malpractice. And somehow, impossibly, it works.

The Laughing Lobotomist invites you to surrender your seriousness, loosen your grip on reality, and let absurdity recalibrate your neural pathways. Read on if you dare to lose your head—and find your sense of humour humming contentedly in its place.