N WHICH THE questions of subtlety and harsh reality are forever confused in the minds of the many, to the relief of the few, hinting at the furtherance of an under-reported agenda by the agents of the sinister...




One day. One day, they said.

One day?

One day, yes.

But you can't say when?

One day. That's all you need to know.




I'm very disappointed. We've been planning various escapades for years, but nothing has ever been good enough. It's all too bizarre for these people. Always with the outlandish. Why can't we be more sensible?


Our various failures all fall within the boundaries of acceptability, of course, for we sow the seeds of creativity. It's just that we've never been in a position to reap our crops. Every harvest a disaster, if I may be honest. The public just aren't ready yet.


That might strike you, oh member of the public, as a little strange: to be told that you're not ready for something you don't know anything about. I know I'd think it was a little bit odd. But that's just the way it works around here. Perhaps we should all come to understand that we're not as free as some of us thought we were...




I cry a lot. I don't know if that was something you wanted to know. You didn't care, probably, or it's just not the sort of information you particularly want to have rattling around inside your brain, but there. It's out: I cry. Tears are somehow meant to cleanse, a chemical release of sorts maybe. I'm not sure but I know that it doesn't work as much as it used to. And when I was a boy I would sweat on a hot day and it would be salty and now... If I sweat now I just think about taking a shower and changing into something lighter.




Oh... you know, you know, you know... It really doesn't matter anyway. The whole thing is a charade. If you do ever realise the Truth you'll never be satisfied again.