"If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit."
On a Sunday morning coming down, Melon needs his melodrama.
Trolley whips out the wind-up wireless bang on time. It is finely attuned to the orthodoxy of Radio Middle England. At a steady rhythm, he revolves the handle, speeding up each time the amber light stops sparkling. The intermittent interference offers relief from the domestic intolerance.
On a Sunday morning coming down, Melon needs his melodrama.
Trolley whips out the wind-up wireless bang on time. It is finely attuned to the orthodoxy of Radio Middle England. At a steady rhythm, he revolves the handle, speeding up each time the amber light stops sparkling. The intermittent interference offers relief from the domestic intolerance.
This week's public theatrical lecture: a woman's place in the penalty shoot-out of life. Doubt, thrust to the margins, it crackles with moral rectitude and certainty.
Using the unopened second bottle of the day as leverage, Melon opens the first bottle of the day, and hands it to Trolley. Imitating the sound taught in Psychic Weaponry 101 on the CIA Undergraduate Scholarship Program at Penn State University, he opens the second bottle, phonetically: Tsck... pshh... fwshhhhhhh.
Melon is a devotee of the dark corners. The version from the rain cloud has been infected with vernacular.
"Who's doing the fucking today?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"What kind of answer is that?"
"I've had enough of this. I'm off down the Hedge Fund and Duck for a pint of Apricot Blonde and a fiddle..."
We interrupt this programme with a flash of neo-realism.
A couple in Wiltshire has been infected by an outbreak of MKUltra. The mind control agent that contains the toxic ideology was previously used by the BBC on the Bukowskis, back in March.
Meanwhile, in an unconnected business item, economic experts claim the creative destruction of the free market is unavoidable. Like the morning after a night on the swally, you'll always feel better after you've heaved up your ring on the infamous streets of the financial district, renowned for their cocaine abuse and raucous sociopathy...
"What kind of question is that?"
"What kind of answer is that?"
"I've had enough of this. I'm off down the Hedge Fund and Duck for a pint of Apricot Blonde and a fiddle..."
We interrupt this programme with a flash of neo-realism.
A couple in Wiltshire has been infected by an outbreak of MKUltra. The mind control agent that contains the toxic ideology was previously used by the BBC on the Bukowskis, back in March.
Meanwhile, in an unconnected business item, economic experts claim the creative destruction of the free market is unavoidable. Like the morning after a night on the swally, you'll always feel better after you've heaved up your ring on the infamous streets of the financial district, renowned for their cocaine abuse and raucous sociopathy...
Trolley switches off the wireless before it unleashes Melon's push-button control mechanism. Too late... The Austrian schoolboys of bullshit have struck again. It is time to get on bikes and round up as many selfish genes as they can find. Trolley wishes he had his ak47½.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Project_MKUltra
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