First you tell yourself the lie, and then you believe it – that’s the proper order of things. From time immemorial that has been the proper order of things. I get so excited by the thought of the proper order of things, it’s such an important thing to me. I’m obsessed by the proper order of things; I’m consumed by the need to make sure that everything does happen according to the proper order of things. It’s so upsetting for me when they don’t, so very upsetting.

First you tell yourself the lie, and then you bloody well believe it! What’s wrong with people these days? Can’t they get anything right? Generation this, generation that, or whatever else they want to call themselves – they don’t know shit, if you ask me. First you tell yourself the lie and then you believe it, what’s not to get about this? Anything else is putting the cart before the horse, anything else just isn’t going to work. Anything else is punishable, an offence against all that is right. How dare anybody offend against what is right and proper, how dare they question the Sacred Lie and try to bring it into disrepute?

It’s hard for us decent folk to think of or conceive of a punishment that would be properly suitable for offenders against what is right and proper. No normal type of punishment exists that can never do justice to the magnitude of this crime – they all fall short of what you would want, you see. They fall very short indeed, justice-wise. What punishment could ever be severe enough for someone who has the temerity to question the Sacred Lie? The mind boggles of course – our seething indignation knows no bounds.

First you tell yourself the lie, and then you believe it – that is always being the proper order of things. I’m overwhelmed with passion even thinking about it I want to shout out loud. ‘Believe the Great and Sacred Lie!’ I want to tell everyone I meet, ‘always believe in the Great and Sacred Lie…’ I want to beg people to believe, I want to get down on my knees and implore them. I also want to bully and frighten them, however. I want to frighten them badly. I have to confess to that. Well I don’t have to confess to it but I will, not because I feel bad about it but because it’s more straightforward to own up to it. Say it like it is, right? There’s no need to be ashamed. Put your cards on the table and let’s all have a good look. I won’t judge if you won’t…

I have this uncanny feeling that I am waking up from a long, long dream. The dream had eaten me up you see, the dream had devoured me whole. I wasn’t in it however and that’s the spooky thing. I wasn’t there. Someone else was in the dream, someone who wasn’t real. The dream had been full of greed – raw, insatiable greed. Greed for this, greed for that, and greed for the other. So much greed! I have this bleary, incoherent memory of a monster who is continually grasping after dream-stuff, one thing after another after another… Food mainly – family buckets of KFC and the like. Lots of family buckets of KFC.

It wasn’t me in the dream though – it was some distorted, demented monster. It was some vile, gross apparition, some frighteningly appallingly disgusting nightmare of a creature. Feeding, feeding, feeding. Feasting, feasting, feasting – groping about in the dark, eternally groping about in the dark. Lumbering towards its doom. Looking for stuff that isn’t really there, groping about feverishly for phantom satisfactions that do nothing but torment. Roaring with pain and frustration, stumbling along in a never-ending delirium.