The Ballad Of Bozo Bambi The Baron Of Brighton

By Billy Rock Mitchell

Part 1: The Baron

A ragged trousered noble

A prince in taste and a pauper in pocket

That was the fate of the intensely afflicted Baron Bozo Bambi

The sickly and intoxicating pursuit of life's immediate pleasure

Hung over dear Bozo's head like an intense and aggressive fog 

Was it a natural state or was it an unholy affliction 

He knew not

But either way he wore his nature like a crown

Proving the legitimacy of his self appointed title

A child of the sesh

Whose colourful lineage

Consisted of insatiable vagabonds

And black sheepishness

A poetic sadness

A frenetic tranquillity 

Is what he saw

On the local balcony

On the edge of the world

He looked out at the the sorry state of affairs

As he wandered down the apples and pears

This place of brick and mortar of

Of mother

Son

And daughter

The sad clown despite his inadequacies

Was filled with a sickly sweet melancholy

Full up on the beautiful idiosyncrasies

That encompasses the human folly 

Everyone was wrong 

Everyone was right 

No one was wrong 

No one was right 

The confusion

The intrusion 

The apocalyptic power

The heavenly shower

Bozo Bambi's head was filled with opposition 

He was afflicted with a state of constant indecision 

He knew he had purpose

But he had no precision 

His creation was not one of planned 

But more of a chaotic birthing 

Given by the universe's hand

To this unlikely and prodigal earthling 

The death of childhood

Is the death of stability 

The death of understanding

The death of irresponsibility 

The ending of that which could 

The realisation of fragility 

The world the Blue Prince finds himself in

Leaves many of the folk to grasp

For a new and righteous time to begin

Yet still they forget the wisdom of the past

They forget the continental brutality

That engulfed the middle of the last century

They forget the hate and the psychopathy 

Chewed away in the mind's eye like taffy

Bozo Bambi knew not where he lay

A man child of the number ninety nine

He felt connected to all eras

But also connected to none

He sat at a historical crossroads

Despite this he had an inkling he'd have some fun

The sad clown did indeed feel an urge to be distressed

But fortunately for him he had many a good and kind peer

The conversation and connection made reality less of a test

Fragrances of strong herb permeated his hallowed estate

The Baron peered voyeuristically into the windows of others

Not deviously mind you

He mostly inspected the various decor and clutter 

Seeing the dim light of a lamp and the comfort of incense enjoyed by lovers

The melancholy jester wandered around his concrete palace

Wind whistling through the streets played the buildings like ghostly instruments

A symphony that aided him as he drank from his fortified chalice

This was his world

This was his place

This is what he thought

Alone off his face

Reveling in his chaotic ecstasy

He ingested the poison fumes of his sweet death stick

The soothing burn calmed his spirit

He began his climb

The climb out of the urban world of grey 

Walking further and further to the green pedestrian peak

An island that hid among the city’s fray

And up top he viewed the human slime

The lights of society shuffled across the streets like ants

The burning fire of humanity 

Angels and demons

Monsters and heroes

All those minds going to and fro

They did challenge him

Every light possessed a story

A legend ready to be told

Everyone sought their own personal glory

Wishing to have a life worth being sold

However many million billion stories there may be

There was only one the ragged trousered noble could tell

It was a story both surreal and mundane

A story like any other

A classic tale of trials and tribulations

Of a hero and a villain

Of one person and many

A yarn featuring an indomitable bargain bin dandy

This is the ballad of Baron Bozo Bambi 

Part 2: The Place

This was a holy place of shattered dreams and half garbled soliloquies

Writhing with "day after" regrets and chemical ecstasy Where many a pseudo philosopher has tried and failed to make their mark

Where old merrymakers spend their twilight daysThey reserve the right to be intricate and slightly self indulgent

That is their way and they like it like that

It does not matter how much the bastards push and shoveAt the end of the day they are who they are

And by all the gods of every pantheon they will not be druv These hallowed halls and makeshift idols of pavement and paint

That serve as so many newcomers formative crecheAnd all the fields and parks which have seen many a rave

As the drained acolytes shout out all hail the seshThis was not a place of geography or exacts

It was a series of concepts and cultures

A place of chippy's 

Yuppies and young drug puppiesA place where anything could be possible 

A place where teachers retreat to have some uppies

Bambi knew its populace well

He had encountered the pretentious pontificators 

The true natives and the welcome adoptees

Even the uni lads arriving on half broken freighters

The Place was oh so small

But wasn't it also just oh so big

A microscopic granule 

A piece of a piece of a piece

A settlement on a rock that sat in the universe

Far gone on an interstellar kaleidoscope

A fishing village that was recorded in the times of domesday

A target of French fire and fury

A destination for those running towards good times happy and gay

The funhouse apple in the eye of the regent

A broadchurch where all has a thought that they must say

A history of murky and seedy affairs

A deep descent down criminal stairs

A carnival of razor blade gangs

Prowling around with flat steel fangs

Brighton Rock 

Brighton Rock

All the way through 

Brighton Rock

It seemed to dear Bozo that this community of Helmstone

Resembled a black hole more than it resembled a city

A force that dragged any stray weirdo into its inescapable zone

Those that came too near to that counter culture event horizon

Knew that even their haphazard minds would not be alone

It represented many things to many people

To some it was a haven of liberty

A land for deluded but self aware sheeple

To others it was a serene untruth

There own personal and sacred steeple

But Bozo knew that under the erected glitz and glamour

There was unmistakably an undercurrent of filth and grime

Along with the civilised dissidents so too did the crims clamour

Two worlds on top of each other bizarre and sublime

Even in this lucky place

Bozo knew that the happy few were the few of the few

The crushing hands of statecraft

Would cook all in it's brutalistic

Tasteless GDP stew

He walked around the town submerged in the all-days blues

As the people’s night out cries echoed across the sky

It was a desperate joy 

A happiness that only existed for headlines on social media news

All the self serving groups indulging in a sweet lie

It was a desperate ploy

Hopping from pub to club to house to wherever the sorry lot ended up

Occasionally at an establishment they would find a new young pup

A new recruit to indoctrinate and take on the long road to Seshlehem

A new member of Bozo’s entourage to gaze upon his symbolic diadem

The Blue Prince knew all the spots all too well

This was his place

This was his yard

This was his home

His rock

All the way through

He had seen the place change oh so very much 

For his rock had been blessed by a Midas touch

While most lands of this cruel Britannia were left hungry

Sick and dying

The glimmer and joy of this beach resort allowed them all to keep lying

The sorry and shambolic state of the empire had been hidden from his view

The passing of time and the gift of age allowed the Baron to see things anew 

But even in his own gay and happy haven

Poor Mr. Bambi could sense the fires very much beginning to catch 

The hate and disunity turned them craven

And In this time of strife and terror many folks will light the match

It all seemed so unreal

Sitting there on the bridge viewing the urban tranquility

To think about the brutal ripping establishment maw

That could lead this disunited kingdom into a rioting and uncivil war

He closed his vision 

And in the sad clowns mind’s eye he could see it

Those nice streets and beautiful buildings crumbling and smoking

As neighbours threw each other to their deaths tumbling and choking

The Scratchman waiting for their souls

The demons and destroyers

Waiting in the brains tiny little holes

He wished this was not the fate of his beloved Helmstone

Whose regal filth had raised him and his grim kin

The clown hoped that all would be better on the beach of stone

And his city rise high and allow a golden age to begin

But tick tock goes the clock

On this here rock

This Brighton

Brighton rock 

And what they say is true

Brighton is Brighton

No matter how hard you chew

It will be Brighton 

Brighton rock all the way through

Part 3: The People

The people stood there like beautiful disgusting clever idiots

They were all liars

People over the years had become expert liars

So good were their lies that they even believed their own

Bozo could see it 

The Crying Bard could smell the fear and insecurity

He could see the untruth in everyone and deep in his soul he knew he was a liar too

Even The Blue Prince was himself devoid of purity

A fact made clear as he poured the toxic contents of his stomach down the loo

Through that corrupted liquid resting above that cruel U bend

Bozo could see into the network of pipes and plumbing that linked this kingdom

He could sense many a peer preparing their stomachs to send

This lurid practice was repeated by many who once so high had now fallen 

This was however only a section of the inhabitants of fair Brighthelm

As the Sad Clown and others of his ilk recovered from the Tuesday night hedonism

More reputable players began to go about their duties in the realm

“Norms” as the Blue Prince called them supporting their tea and biscuit despotism

The valiant nine o'clock warriors of the system you know and love

Who mumble and grumble hoping one day to be with guys up above

The people who studied economics because they wanted to get into the biz

Who have accepted the shitiness of the world because “that's just how it is”

But things are not binary that would be too simple

This is not a Tolkien struggle where a white collar Sauron gets bucked

This is about all the details right down to the pimple

This is about the people and guess what? 

The people

well they're fucked

The people the Baron thought

Were like an invisible puzzle with pieces missing

A disease the world caught

Un-understandable were they to anyone

As unique and as similar as you might expect billions to be

All gormless sitting there under the sun

Understanding all those persons had long been an ambition of the foolish Baron

He had wished to please all the parties of this world

The Crying Bard tried desperately to decipher the art of civilised disagreement

He thought it silly that people should still fight

If everyone were kind everything would be alright

It made no sense to keep on with this meanness

We could have a world pure with greenness

Unfortunately for the Sad Clown this was not the earthly state of affairs

There was more cruelty and harshness than desired

As the humans screamed the filth of their madness down the stairs

But they weren't bad

Oh no the very problem was that no one was all bad

So much rough around the diamonds

So much bad around the good

There they were 

The People

Shuffling around

They were full of love and regret 

They were full of it

Full of their superiority

They were full of bile and threat

They were full of shit

Full of their authority

The Baron walked among them

He was one of them

And he was proud

Proud to be the people

Even with their tyranny

Even with their taint

He was one of them

In love and in hate

Dear Bozo wandered further and further into the maze of his mind

Through his synaptic doorways he could see all the features of his kind

For everyone was everybody

All have the same feelings

The same emotions and the same flaws

The same stuntedness like an animal trying to use a tool with its paws  

The Baron also took comfort in the fact that the people of this gay little rock

Were by far not the worst and overall were friendly and cheerful

The people of this haven had been tempted away from Albions cultural shlock

But this was not always the case

Some still were callous and fearful

The persons of this world on fire did all indulge in the same self medication

The masses could pick their opiate of choice and follow it with dedication

Wherever you go the race of man wanted the same thing

Something to believe

Something to indulge and a song to sing

Bambi noted that the good folks of this beach refuge had strayed away from religion

Instead they indulged purely in coffee

Pints and chemical satisfaction

The Baron knew himself to indulge in those flights of fancy more often than a smidgen

And whether wrong or right it did produce an intoxicating reaction

Those parasites the sapiens of earth were infuriating and endearing

The Blue Prince could see so much promise in the human experiment

He hoped that they would stick around and not soon be disappearing

The sad clown hoped it would turn out well and produce much merriment

There he was

The Baron

Shuffling around

He was full of love and regret 

He was full of it

Full of his superiority

He was full of bile and threat

He was full of shit

Full of his authority

The People walked beside him

They were like him

And they were proud

Proud to be who they were

Even with their tyranny

Even with their taint

They were the people

In love and in hate

Deserving of a better fate

Part 4: The Good

As the seagulls flew overhead Bozo looked across the coast

He saw the endless joy of existence 

People nestled together enjoying company and banter

Acts of friendly and kind resistance

The world at this time seemed to him a very dark place

Forcing The Baron into a search for hope 

Looking for candles in a storm to guide this sickly race

But so many of those candles did burn so brightly

Small things

Important things

Acts of kindness

They were universal and did tilt the world rightly

For The Blue Prince it was the spontaneous moments of joy that rang true

Frivolous laughter on a subject of no importance that wondrous social glue

Those moments he thought can break down any barrier real or not

They bind humanity with giggles and these times shouldn’t be forgot

The Sad Clown wondered the pathways of his cosmic rock

He came by the greenery outside The Church Of St Peter

And saw a holy vision of a man with one sodden sock

The tableaux as it appeared to him stuck in his mind as clear as day

A young couple sat on a bench relaxed and true 

And with them one of the street people smoking and gabbing away

They talked not as lessers but equals

No malice or fear

No dismissal or rudeness

Simply a conversation

Relating to The Matrix’s sequels

That vision for the Baron was like a template for all who sought a better tomorrow

A world where love is all, all is love and everyone will have many a seed to sow

Dear Bambi knew it was a silly and most optimistic picture for him to paint

But why aim for a world of despair when we could live in the world of a saint

As he bumbled and bimbled around aimlessly in his zig zaggy way

He came to a pathway over a filthy and petrol soaked tunnel

It smelt like any city underpass of dampness 

Despair and urban decay

The Baron perched himself on a bench looking out at the city’s concrete meadows

The setting sun bathed the roofs in orange pinkish light

A serene combination of the natural and unnatural like a finely crafted paper rose

As The Baron looked over his Kingdom he saw black birds in a flock flying free

With purpose

With precision

No indecision

And he saw himself flying in that amber sky far out over that blue murky sea

In his organic monitor he could see the people beyond the channel

A woman struggling with her child, washing him with a grey flannel

A family sharing the first meal after the harsh fast of ramadan

An old couple by candlelight patiently waiting for the gasman 

He could see all the peoples of the world he could sense their good hearts

He could see their dreams their hopes their aspirations

Even if all that amounted to was to was beating their colleague at darts

All those images went into him

Flowed through him

Filled him with power

No longer was he flying or gliding

He was shooting

The land was a blur beneath him passing round the earth every hour

The Crying Bard was racing round the world with that great feeling of beyondness

Part of life 

Part of the universe a doolally chap complete in his oneness

He could feel it

He could breathe it

That absolute feeling of life that seeps into your veins like only supreme love can

The feeling of the most cleansing water and the freshest air ever had by man

No struggle

No battle

Only the great symphony of life playing its impossible tune of matter and mind

The great energy of the spirit removed of impurity and now masterfully refined

So close

So near

The Blue Prince was ready

He was so close to that nirvana 

That perfection

But now for him the answer was no

As beneath him it began to slow

Slowly but surely he was again flying and soaring 

As he returned to his origin his being was roaring

The lands he saw beneath where retreating, The Baron was retracing his master flight

And all the peoples he saw before were done and finished

Everyone went back to their shacks and sacks as even the sun ran from the night

Bozo Bambi returned to his vessel and still it was there limp on the bench

He saw the urban forest now darkened and lamplit 

His failure to ascend crushed him and the pain did make his heart wrench

All the promise and hope dashed as if suffering a great crash

A sick feeling entered his throat like some rotten potato mash

Here it comes

Here it comes

Here cometh the death of day and the darkness of the night

The rain and the pain descend

The anguish with no damn end

The broken flower on the mend

This is the coming of the Scratchman

Bozo Bambi is in for a fight

Let us pray he can still find the light

Part 5: The Bad

Smash slam and crack

Smash slam and crack

The Sad Clowns hands hit the concrete of hard cold wall

Hoping to block out the disappointing and filthy reality

Bash bang and bludgeon

Bash bang and bludgeon

The Baron let out a guttural beastly and ancient roar

Why he asked was this world treating him like a whore

His mind was fucking racing 

Violent and bloody tail chasing

Not for you the cruel Scratchman said in his head

Unworthy wretch

Mephisto will do for the Blue Prince

Where once Bozo Bambi had been mighty and high almost touching the gods

He was fighting against gravity the weight crushing every fibre in his body

The Blue Prince was crying as his shredded painful soul felt undying

A burning blistering sensation that dug deep into the retinas of his eyes

The Crying Bard with blood on his hands and tears in his eyes ran

He ran and he ran and he ran

No sense no mind no plan

Mr Scratch was here now to stay

There was no escape no distance of safety

All the Sad Clown’s fear and hate and disease was endemic

Mr Scratch was attacking poor Bozo with brutal polemic

He was alone as his concrete palace contorted, tore and collapsed

His faith and his joy reduced to nothing utterly and completely lapsed 

His thin facade washed away to reveal a poor soul long astray

A life wasted with no more value than a fagend in an ashtray

His self appointed title evaporating to nothing

Not a baron

Not a man

Not a clown 

Not a bard

Facepaint washed and dulled

Only left was the Silly Boy

The pathetic Man Child

The Human Wretch

The Scratchman that foul demon working for the meat machine

He was a sharp figure in every wretched way

His whole essence looked like it cut

As the Poor Boy’s mother city collapsed around him

The Scratchman’s foul stench infested the very soil of the land

A black mass of toxicity and putrid bile ready

Ready to consume all

Outstretched with tendrils

The Silly Boy ran further 

He ran

And ran

And ran

Fast

Fast as he could

Fast as his pathetic body would

Even as the winding streets and grey brick cracked and shattered

Even as the filthy streets crumbled and sunk

The Man Child ran from the sharp man

The Man Child ran from the unstoppable tide of sickness

Covid 19

Covid 19

Not just a horrible dream

Squeeze pop and snap

Squeeze pop and snap

The Man Child’s muscles tore and collapsed and he did fall 

To be consumed by Mr Scratch and that gooey black sea

Stomp clamp and crush

Stomp clamp and crush

Scratchman broke every bone in this very physical war

He was an immobilized slump slugging on the floor

The Human Wretch was engulfed and so was everything

He was alone

Isolated and cut off

There was no singing

There was no dancing

No light only darkness

This was the meat machine

This was where the scratchman and his ghouls brainstorm

The think tank of hell

Making a pitch to sell

The tainted gurus pitched the great viral sensation

Ignorance galore a most uncivil war

A great pestilence for every single pitiful nation

They showed him it was coming

What could he do but curl up right there and die

He could see the coming storm out of one eye

The disease that consumed all

The disease of the earth

The disease of humanity

The disease of ignorance

The cancer

The tumor

Growing 

Growing

In the chest

No chance of a magic virus proof vest

No chance of a reprieve from it all

No chance

No chance at all

Do it

Do it

Become the Man Child

Become the Gilded Fool

Dance for the money men

Dance for their dirty crumbs

Hurt yourself 

Hurt others

Be it

Be it

Be the latest thing

Be the lurid freakshow

Make the bacon before it's too late

Make your way to the top

No matter who gets in your way

No matter the easy moral hop

See it

See it

See it in your eyes

See the earth's demise

Look out at the wheezing coughing wretch 

Look at the awful awesome monstrosity

This is the future our great big society 

This is a place for winners not variety

Join it

Join it

Join us now

Join us quick

No looking back

No gloves here

Accept your greedy thoughts and ways

Accept it's your right no matter the cost

Join us

Join us

We know our way unlike you there so lost

Now

Now

Do it now Blue Prince 

Do it now Baron

Do it now Dear Bozo

Do it now Poor Bambi

Embrace the rot

Embrace the filth

Embrace the toxicity

Do it

Do it

Now

He screamed

He roared

He wailed into that black abyss

That deep well

That well of grief

That well of guilt and cruelty

The endless sea

The black water

Engulfing many in its hopeless torment

But in this pit

In this void

There was what looked like a single star

The man child's heart longed to be close to it

The more he wanted it the more it seemed to expand

Despite being here in the Scratchman's realm of shit

This light he saw broke through the evil land

He could almost touch it with his outstretched hand

The Scratchman and his agents lept for the boy

He was their fun

He was their toy

As the Man Child’s finger touched light 

Suddenly his body was fit for the fight

A green flame of energy

A ray of light

The fire in his heart burning bright

The Man was full of green and dazzling flame

It was bright and piercing 

It drove Mr Scratch’s stooges completely insane

The fire coarsed and travelled and consumed the black mass

The fire burned and the infection cleared

The soil and the life of the land returned 

That natural sass

The Man Child consumed by green fire focused on Scratchman

He was alone now 

He had no allies and none of his twisted magic left

But before the Silly Boy could obliterate and vaporise that thing

His edginess and sharp body twisted and imploded

He had no foundations

Without the gooey void he was nothing

But now the fire burned through The Boy molten hot

He crystalised and hardened a cocoon around him although quite lean

For he comes now

New and fresh with a lovely sheen

Now he comes

Now he comes

The new improved organic machine

Here he comes

Here he comes

That man

That Man ‘O’ Green

Part 6: Man ‘O’ Green

The Man ‘O’ Green

Born anew

Born fresh

Leaving the creche

Shades come off

No more poorly constructed disguis No more dark filter

Light beaming straight into his eyes

The Man ‘O’ Green looked around

He saw the city clearly now

Without awe

Without shock

It was no verdant paradise

But nor was it a pit of despair

This Brighton

This Rock

It was a place like any other

A place of truths

And a place of lies

That Green Man looked at the site of the battle

The Scratchman’s foul sorcery had gone

This rock was steady and did cease to rattle

His struggle with the beast had been won

But the air did not feel so steady

That foul demon’s stench sullied all of the atmosphere

Even though the Emerald Human had found his 21st halfway nirvana

He saw the people of this planet scrambling and mad

Everything everywhere making as much sense as a straightened banana

People were fighting reality 

Against what seemed so sad

The Green Man knew where he lay

A man child of the number ninety nine

He felt connected to all eras

But also connected to none

He sat at a historical crossroads

But this wasn't all going to be games and fun

He didn’t have a defined destination

He did however possess a direction

A journey he was about to start

And on the way time for reflection

He walked around the place he called home

Revisiting familiar sights and feelings

Feeling the joy

The light

The ecstasy of days gone past

A new era had begun

For he and this cosmic rock

However it seems this new dawn begins cloudy and grey

To many peoples dismay

And as he entered into this seemingly dark world

That Green Man was confident with purpose and precision

No indecision 

He knew that a dark world needed light unfurled

To go into the darkness and make a bright burning incision

With perfect vision

Into the storm

Into the fire

Through valley and over hill

Without hate

Without ire

The Verdant King climbed once more to the earthy peak

To look out over his land

Seeing the odd person crazed

No longer able to crawl

Let alone stand

He saw the ocean

He saw the beach

Point A on this new journey

A healing potion

A goal to reach

Eyes set on the point

The Man ‘O’ Green rushed feverishly down the hill

Ready to self anoint

Ready for his new quest 

Ready for the thrill

The energy

The exuberance

It gave him hope in these dark times

With time and with struggle

We may end the dehumanisation

Blessed be the holy rejuvenation

Bring life back to this civilization

As the Sage Traveller arrived at the stoney port

He saw the site of his construction

A new vehicle was needed in these stormy seas

Something new

Something fresh

Something that could weather what was coming next

Build

Build

Build your vessel

Get moving

Get ready

To run the Kessel

He could see the storm on the horizon

It was coming for all

Young or old

Ready or not

It was coming

One more tool was needed 

A guide

A friend

A piece of his soul

To know and to hold

Little O

Little clay blue boy

With broken horn

A piece of melancholy

A piece of joy

A totem you shall be

A focuser for he

You

You and he

Into the storm

Into the sea

Into this new reality

Sail

Sail

Sail your boat

Through valley

Through sea

And over moat

As the journey across the waves of uncertainty began

He felt confident and sure

Struggle disappearing

No more was life a war

Life was not a mountain to be climbed

It was an ocean to be sailed

A web that connected and chimed 

Each person on a raft

Different sizes

Different capabilities 

Sadly the luck of the draft

But along the way many vessels encountered

Many people and many stories

Connections flowing and breathing

Bad storms and mad pirates

But also friends and comrades 

Family in all but name

The Verdant King looked back on the world behind

The silly controllers’ magic was thinning

Those cruel tyrants and strongmen

Thinking they rule this world from towers above

Will realise this is not their playground

And the great people of all great places wunt be druv

As the shore grew farther and farther away

The Green Man stood taller and taller

Even though he could see the chaos that lay ahead

He was sure and true

The Man O Green with tinge of blue

Like a speeding train choo choo choo

It was not a pleasant paradise

A dark horizon 

Masking the light of hope

But past the storm

Past the horizon

There was light

There was a big bright world

A future for the Man O Green

Humanity healed and unfurled

Be green

Be red

Be blue

Even purple too

Go through the prism that is you

Taste the rainbow 

Feel the rainbow

Let all the colours flow

Make all of the you's glow

Sadness

Happiness

Joy

Melancholy

All are important 

None of them a folly

The Sage traveller was ready for the future

Ready for the now

Remembering the before

But not living in it

No longer consumed by ghosts

He grabbed some sea water

As the waves crashed and cackled

As the storm grew

Wash it he thought

Wash it away

Wash it blue

Wash the past 

Wash it through

He saw with clear eyes the beating heart of this monstrous calamity

The eye of the needle

His path known completely

Course set

Sails ready

Heading into the eye of the storm

Ready and waiting for his final form

However many million billion voyagers there may be

There was only one journey this sea green sod could take

It was a destiny both surreal and mundane

A quest like any other

A classic tale of trials and tribulations

Of a hero and a villain

Of one person and many

A chronicle featuring an indomitable human with a lovely sheen

This is the destiny

The fate

The future

Of the Man ‘O’ Green

By Billy Rock Mitchell