.. disco biscuits ..

Tonight I love everyone; that bloke that run over my dog when I was six, my local MP and even Jeremy bloody Beadle. I slip through the sweaty crowd, all of whom look huggable.

Bright lights, funky shapes, disco biscuits.

I can see a weak old man, with long hair flowing freely and a face that contains a wrinkle for every thought he's ever had, opening various cages to free the trapped birds.

Did Lenin just wink at Chaplin?

After having a sophisticated conversation with a giant turquoise pineapple about Marxism, I follow a line made up of many different colours; blue, red, green, orange, purple, yellow and ones that I've never ever seen before. The line led me to a pound coin. A sad pound coin. It was crying. I asked it why and it said, 'I am passed from consumer to consumer. Consumer to consumer. Consumer to consumer'. The tears came again and I hurried off with 'Consumer to consumer' echoing all around me.

I looked up and around. People were sad. Price tags were appearing all over their clothes. One girl had a tiny fitted top with a seventy five pound price tag - she looked like one of the unhappiest people there. What had happened? I had to leave. I headed for the door but three George Bush's stopped me. They grabbed me by the arms and legs and carried me into a side room.

The room was completely dark and empty. A television screen appeared. They tied me to a chair and gagged me. They then pressed a button and something came on the screen. They left. I was engrossed in what appeared on the screen. I could hear crying from outside the room. I no longer cared.

.. back ..