Welcome back to the home of the oxymoron. Evil genius. He asked the newspaper to print his obituary early so he'd enjoy it. That's like hiding at your own funeral. Yeah, it's a big, great gig. I'm Russell Kane. Join me to weigh in on whether the biggest players in history are more evil or genius. Becoming that rich, I'd say that at some level of genius. It also helps that it's a long time ago, right?

It's like the podcast version of telling your kids the ice cream van plays music when it's out of ice cream.

Listen to evil genius on BBC Sounds.

The memory of the internet is perfect and pitiless.

Tonight, the co-founder of Wikipedia, Jimmy Wales, tells us that it must

remain so, no matter how embarrassing our personal histories. Yes, including that moment you're thinking

about now. We'll also do our bit to save the Polish filmmaker Valerian Borovchik from the fog

of cultural amnesia. All the eye-wateringly explicit sex in his pictures ought to help.

First, though, we conjure the memory of a man who died 150 years ago today

in a state of visionary derangement,

a man who was the subject of an appeal for funds

on the pages of the Atheneum magazine that read,

The malady by which the poet is lost to himself has caused him to pass from the memory of others,

a man for whom, at a strange ritualistic gathering in Epping Forest tonight, they played this.

John Barley Corn, he shot up a rainblade and he don't surprise them all.

Ha ha ha, my boy, he don't surprise them all.

Now John Barley Corn, he grew tall, he grew strong.

Ha ha ha, my boy boyie don't surprise them old

John Barley Corn

Played in Epping Forest tonight

For the poet John Clare

Who died a century and a half ago today

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