My Brothers Made Me a Mancunian Candidate


You are in Dublin. Your brothers have arranged for you to assassinate someone. They have conditioned you to obey any order over many, many years. You are wearing the black polo neck jumper that they made you associate  with playing violent games. Just putting it on you are in a trance like state.

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You have planted bombs in Pennsylvania to create a diversion and confusion. You then use a sniper rifle to kill the intended target. You struggle to get back to your brothers house. A guy gives you a lift in his van, up a narrow muddy path, that the rain is washing away. Tree roots are visible through the mud.
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You arrive at work. It has all changed. It is an office. There are no customers. It seems a pointless exercise in bureaucracy.
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You try to hitch a lift as you walk along an Irish country road, it meanders and rises and falls. In the distance are cloud topped mountains. You know that this is where your ancestral home is.
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Eventually you arrive at Andy, your brothers, house. You and Ken have left it in a mess. Andy and his family are back tomorrow. You tidy up a bit. You realise you don’t have any idea where you are or how to get home. You try to use their iPad, but it is stuck in an app displaying old family photos and animated gifs.
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You have an old phone with weird predictive text. You can’t say what you want to to your brothers. It is very frustrating.
Andy and Cath return home early. You were hoping to be gone before they arrived. You feel happy to see Andy, and comment on the loss of his hair.
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