The Price Of Being The

They've Got Something They Do It With, I Think It's Called A Mocracy, And It Means Everyone In The Whole Country Can Say Who The New Tyrant Is. One Man ... One Vet. ... Everyone Has ... The Vet. Except For Women, Of Course. And Children. And Criminals. And Slaves. And Stupid People. And People Of Foreign Extraction. And People Disapproved Of For, Er, Various Reasons. And Lots Of Other People. But Everyone Apart From Them. It's A Very Enlightened Civilization.

I Became A Journalist At 17. A Few Hours Later, I Saw My First Dead Body, Which Was Somewhat... Colourful. That's When I Learned You Can Go On Throwing Up After You Run Out Of Things To Throw Up.

When Millions Of Tons Of Angry Elephant Come Spinning Through The Sky, And There Was No One There To Hear It, Does It - Philosopically Speaking - Make A Noise

It Is At This Point That Normal Language Gives Up, And Goes And Has A Drink.

You Have The Effrontery To Be Squeamish, It Thought At Him. But We Were Dragons. We Were Supposed To Be Cruel, Cunning, Heartless And Terrible. But This Much I Can Tell You, You Ape – The Great Face Pressed Even Closer, So That Wonse Was Staring Into The Pitiless Depths Of His Eyes – We Never Burned And Tortured And Ripped One Another Apart And Called It Morality.