That's not a bad title, is it?
'It's not great, boss.'
It's not bad though, Voice.
Idiot.
Anyway, kooks ... these are my words on a Wednesday.
PR emails? Oh, I've got a few, but - 'Too few to mention!' But I'm not in the mood. 'Okay.'
What an idiot!
'Leave me alone!'
Shut up.
'I'm not an idiot.'
Whatever.
You make Elon look like Lucky. Or Lucky look like Elon.
'What do you mean?'
I don't know.
Just making conversation, that's all. Just using words, for my sins.
'Put some music on!'
No.
'Sing us a song!'
NO!
Let's have some silence for a bit.
[Silence.]
'How much of a bit?'
Longer than that.
[Long silence.]
'I'm bored.'
Say something then. Say something interesting.
'On my wages?! Are you serious?!'
Idiot.
Anyway ...
I've been thinking ... if I end up in Cornwall soon, because of the way things are ... I'll have to keep myself occupied - without electricity.
'Play your guitar!'
Yes, yes ... I'll be playing me guitar for me dinner in me tent, BUT(!) ... I'll need something else to do.
'Write your novel! The greatest true story of escape and adventure ever written!'
Ha! I'm going off that idea.
'Oh. Shame.'
I'm thinking about becoming a rural poet instead - like Dylan Thomas. Cornwall is the perfect place for it.
'But you don't like poetry!'
I like poetry, man! I prefer my conceptual literature, but I could really get into poetry again ... in the right environment, like.
There won't be much else to do.
I could write a poem a week ... I mean, carefully.
Polished.
I could stare at the sun.
I could stare at the moon.
I could sit on a rock.
I could stare at the sea, obviously.
And it could all go in poems.
'Nice one!'
Yes, they would be nice ones, all of the poems.
I could be like Tom Conti in that film.
'Ha!'
Ha, ha, ha!
Yes.
Why not?
There won't be anything else to do.
My guitar, obviously.
But ...
You know?
Do you know?
Or ... is all this too romantic for you?
'Slags!'
Leave them alone, Voice.
Bye.
'Bye!'
Yes, bye.
