I am ruled by the nonsense in my head. I’m ruled in everything I do by that rotten old nonsense. I expect it’s the same for you. It’s a dreadful state of affairs, isn’t it? It’s an utterly dismal state of affairs to be sure but what are we to do? Just what the hell are we supposed to do about it? Answer me that, if you can…
The nonsense says jump and I’m jumping all over the shop like a frigging kangaroo on steroids. I’m bouncing up and down like one possessed. Like a yoyo. The nonsense says clap your hands and I’m applauding manically, applauding like a total fool. I’m applauding Satan and all his works. ‘You did it again boss’, I gush, full of sycophantic admiration, ‘you did it again!’
I’m attending a rally in my own head “Let all right-thinking people join together in worshipping the Malignant One!” I cry out ecstatically, “Let all decent ordinary folk stand together as one and Denounce the Wrong Doers!” I was chanting with the crowd, experiencing mystical union with the mob. I was chanting Satan’s slogans in unison with the ghostly crowd in my head.
It doesn’t get any better than this of course. It couldn’t get any better than this. “Praise be to the nonsense in my head,” I cry out, “praise be to that filthy old nonsense!”. I’m obedient to the last, you see – obedient to the very last. “How did you get to be so obedient”, the voices asked me. “How did you get to be ruled by all that nonsense in your head?”
How did you ever, how did you ever? How did it happen? The questions never stop. I’ve been hollowed out over time you see, I’ve been hollowed out over a long period of time and now there’s not really anything left of me! If you even gave me even the slightest tap or nudge, I’d collapse in a cloud of dust. I’d cave in on myself – the facade would crumble. The facade always has to crumble, doesn’t it? What’s the point of a facade that doesn’t crumble? No sooner have you put the façade in place than you’re waiting for the cracks to show. You’re waiting for the end.
I was busy singing victory songs. I was belting them out. Bursting myself, I was. I was parading around the place, doing my stilted little victory dance – strutting and prancing like some kind of idiot. I was tapping my fingers and nodding my head in tune to the music that only I (and tens of millions of others) can hear. Humming along to the tune that everyone else is humming along to. “It doesn’t get any better than this”, I told myself solemnly. Indeed it doesn’t. I was obeying the worm, you see. Always obeying that dirty old worm. I expect it’s the same for you.