So, uh ... 'Haven't you had any breakfast, boss?' Yes, I've had breakfast, Voice. Three crumpets. But it's the next few days I'm worried about. It's the CO2 shortage, you see. There are no crumpets in the shops. 'Oh. What does Euan Munro say about it?' Ha! It's no use asking him. He hasn't got a clue about crumpets, or CO2, or beer, or ice cream, or anything much. 'That's a bit harsh, man.' Well ... I'm in a bad mood, man.
News? I don't know about the news, dear reader(s). It's just ... / Brexit seems to be getting worse by the day. I find it hard to believe that some crazies [some] still support it. Business people are pulling their hair out. The country will be absolutely wrecked if we leave with no deal. And for what? 'For nothing, boss. An illusion of sovereignty.' It's absolutely bizarre, Voice. People need to live for themselves, you dig? Their real lives. Not some imaginary rubbish. I'm sick of it!
PR emails? I haven't got any, dear reader(s). Sorry. It's the summer. Everyone is on holiday. Except me. / Tesla? The share price fell a bit yesterday. Ridiculous! A Ford boss on Twitter says that Ford can make seven thousand cars in four hours. 'Really, boss?' Yes. And my response to that is: Who gives a shit?! Seriously.
Oh, by the way, I've started having Twinings Earl Grey tea with my morning crumpets. 'What's wrong with PG Tips?!' Nothing's wrong with PG Tips. I just fancied a change, man.
Breaking news! And very good news, actually. I've just received an emergency delivery of six Warburton's crumpets. [Someone went out and got them for me.] 'Yippee!' I'm so relieved. What a result!
Music? I bought Karajan's 1977 recording of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony yesterday. It's great. Maybe the best version, though I'm not an expert. Other people say it's the best.
Uh. Anything else? Christ! You want more?! 'They're insatiable, boss. These characters love news the way you love crumpets.' Well, there isn't any more news. Not even personal news. 'Make something up.' Ha! I've been doing that since 2007, son.
Oh dear. / Football tonight, the England match. 'Will we win?' We? Are you English then? 'I don't know. I mean, I float around here, because of you, but -' But you're an inhabitant of the astral plane, Voice. Count yourself lucky. The things of this sordid world shouldn't concern you. 'Ha! In theory, boss. However, I'm still your intern, ain't I? And spirit guide.' Yeah. Maybe you're a Native American.
Anyway, bye, crocodile(s)! 'Bye!' See you tomorrow.
News? I don't know about the news, dear reader(s). It's just ... / Brexit seems to be getting worse by the day. I find it hard to believe that some crazies [some] still support it. Business people are pulling their hair out. The country will be absolutely wrecked if we leave with no deal. And for what? 'For nothing, boss. An illusion of sovereignty.' It's absolutely bizarre, Voice. People need to live for themselves, you dig? Their real lives. Not some imaginary rubbish. I'm sick of it!
PR emails? I haven't got any, dear reader(s). Sorry. It's the summer. Everyone is on holiday. Except me. / Tesla? The share price fell a bit yesterday. Ridiculous! A Ford boss on Twitter says that Ford can make seven thousand cars in four hours. 'Really, boss?' Yes. And my response to that is: Who gives a shit?! Seriously.
Oh, by the way, I've started having Twinings Earl Grey tea with my morning crumpets. 'What's wrong with PG Tips?!' Nothing's wrong with PG Tips. I just fancied a change, man.
Breaking news! And very good news, actually. I've just received an emergency delivery of six Warburton's crumpets. [Someone went out and got them for me.] 'Yippee!' I'm so relieved. What a result!
Music? I bought Karajan's 1977 recording of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony yesterday. It's great. Maybe the best version, though I'm not an expert. Other people say it's the best.
Uh. Anything else? Christ! You want more?! 'They're insatiable, boss. These characters love news the way you love crumpets.' Well, there isn't any more news. Not even personal news. 'Make something up.' Ha! I've been doing that since 2007, son.
Oh dear. / Football tonight, the England match. 'Will we win?' We? Are you English then? 'I don't know. I mean, I float around here, because of you, but -' But you're an inhabitant of the astral plane, Voice. Count yourself lucky. The things of this sordid world shouldn't concern you. 'Ha! In theory, boss. However, I'm still your intern, ain't I? And spirit guide.' Yeah. Maybe you're a Native American.
Anyway, bye, crocodile(s)! 'Bye!' See you tomorrow.
