Hanging the Little People Out To Dry

Running away from a cave, along rough tracks that rise into mountains. I cannot remember what happened in the cave. It was too dark. Chris Law runs past me, he was in the cave too. His face is a rubber gas mask. We argue as we bound across the rugged landscape.

Walking along a city road. We are wearing suits. I’m carrying a PowerBook G4. I’m aware the man next to me is armed and dangerous. He anticipates this. He draws his weapon to shoot me. I bat it out of his hand with my laptop, and beat him about the head.

He drops the gun and steps back. I pick up the gun and shoot him repeatedly. It is firing blanks. The last shot misfires, and part of the casing kills another man, stood next to me.

The gunman says. “Now, we have to shred the room.”
“Which one?”
“You know which one.”.

The scene changes. I am the assistant to a magician who has built the world’s first camper van. It is an estate car with a large cardboard box and pillow in the back. We meet a lesbian couple, looking for work. The magician can use them in one of his acts.

A normal home. A pipe leaks rusty water through the living room. In a shed outside, midgets carry dismembered body parts and hang them from a washing line. This disturbs me, and they cover it up with a sheet.

Sport shirts are hung on the line, and people sing songs. It is now the little people who have been dismembered, and hung out to dry.

I am in a local transport meeting. Nigel Farrage is there. Others try to stop him speaking. I say that though I am opposed to fascists, I defend to the death his right to free speech. He thanks me graciously, and we leave the building. He is a charming character, and this thin veil of charm hides a racist, sexist, small minded bigot who does not realise just how dangerous he is.

I am back in the normal house. I offer to make a friend a cup of tea.

Rusty water leaks from a pipe, soaking into the carpet.



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