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We need… To get back… To Spendyke… Before she drifts… Out of mind… Forever… But where?… And why?… Woz at The Galleon… Keeps cropping up… We’re thespians… He said… Which is a quotation from a film… And then he laughed… That laugh again… Shakespeare too… Compared the world… To a stage… His namesake… Was one of the first… To get the Jib-Jab… Famously… And one of the first to die… Not quite so famously… And all that… Just before Warwick… It takes awhile to realise… That every thing… Is subject… To what Big Bee… Would insist… Is a traffic-light… System… But which is…
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In reality… A hierarchy… And those that implement it… Are beyond it… Or above it… Or outside and beyond its reach… Convenient eh?… Like the self imposed… Wage hikes… Which no body else… Is allowed… Just before the business… And immediately afterwards… What a good job we did… In our opinion… Which is… The only opinion that counts… Seemingly… For now at least… But there is a tidal wave of retribution… Building… And when it hits… It is not going to be pretty… For anyone that was involved… More laughter… Woz shrinks to the size of a pea… And gets sucked out of the scene.
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Weird… We still need to see… The High Furlong… Leaving photo… But the past is silent… Now… Kick it… And it doesn’t even cough… Or splutter… We must have missed something… It wouldn’t be the first time… The last Ireland trip was just before… The towers came down… Uno in the pub… At lunchtime… Missing the accident… On the motorway… Because we took the wrong turning… Passed the Kabbalah… Library… Lunch at the Last Drop… The promise of better things to come… On the way out of the Cinema… How wrong that turned out to be… Without it we might not have got through.
France & Vincent 