The king will see no visitors this evening. He's resting
in his bath. And he's restless for the screening of his
favorite soap - this episode is crucial. The king just
needs to cry. Far away, the peasants are revolting, the
generals have been choked with knotted flags. I hear
they're hanging from the balustrades. From mile-high-
rises, microwaves are dropped. Drive-bys, dodge them all,
to swarm into the hungry mob, to desecrate them, defecate
them, no one's leading on. They keep pitching forwards,
this way, that way, anyway. And I heard the airport's
overflowing, and the borders have been closed. We are
censoring this message, though we're sure that no one
knows: No one cares! The king is looking rather
disappointed. He's staring at the screen, and he's
swearing, 'cos he's seen someone died. The funeral is
live.