And now they are manufacturing tennis balls and telling us to go outside, give ourselves a break from it all, stretch our legs and enjoy the good life for a while, instead of working for it, even though we have it so good anyway, can't we just call your mum? Join forces somewhere off the border, Abidjan is still pretty fucking hot and although the council has finally backed a movement there are still sensitivities, if you get me, particular things we as an international body still need to be careful of. It's very easy to just get caught up in the heat of the moment, well let me tell you, that's exactly, exactly what we are not going to do. Instead, instead she just sat there mocking the voiceover, as if it could hear her or something, and the dude wearing the baseball gersey thinking about drinking and that's about it. Where the fuck are my keys? Looking all through her teapot-shaped handbag, always have to put up with this shit! Quickly shooting a glance at the station name, no sense of spatio-temporal perception whatsoever. Funny how you always wake up right when you get to your stop. Well not always. Floods all across the front page but you don't pick it up because you know it won't tell you anything, not that it's obliged to but when it's all in that font size who gives a shit anyway. How big do you need to make the words? No point. How about reverse psychology? Make the print smaller so they get all curious and pick it up going 'what the fuck is this? And then BAM straight into the mind's eye … oh well, energy drinks work just as well. Food technology. Amazing. We, as a species, have found our ultimate niche. Canned energy. Could start hooking all the interplanetary jets up to that shit, quicksmart. The fleet runs on 100% caffeine. Isn;t that just incredible stuff, Cathy? Then seconds of black of black before the next ad. Five seconds? Gosh Harry, that seems just a bit long …
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