There's something about all those words, all that pressure... at night I lie awake for hours thinking about outer space, infinity, religion, spirituality... and politics.
Why aren't the cabinet labelled the Eton Mess? It's actually a delicious pudding made of smashed up meringue and jam and cream, but it's formless, and in the emergency colours of red and white; it is mixed-up, irreparable and although it tastes nice at first, it leaves one with a sense of being overpowered by bad calories. Most important of all, it is insufferably rich!
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