"Run, Goddamnit, RUN!!!!!!!!!" said Brian.
"Why, Goddamnit, WHY?????????" asked Space Baron.
"Because it's going to explode!!!!!!!!!!" said Brian.
"No it's not, it's just a crappy book that Liam gave Rob." said Space Baron, his voice loaded with cutting I'm-laughing-at-you-ness.
"Oh, do you want to read it to me then?" asked Brian with Hang-dog eyes.
"Only if you put your boxer shorts back on, and go back to bed."
And Space Baron started reading "Futuretrack" by Robert Westall.
"I skipped across the polished parquet..."
"What's a parquet?" asked Brian, his forehead creased with wonder.
"It's a futuristic thing, like a crumpet crossed with a park...now where was I...Oh that's right... "I skipped across the polished parquet..."
"What's a parquet?" asked Brian, his forehead creased with wonder.
"It's a futuristic thing, like a crumpet crossed with a park...now where was I...Oh that's right... "I skipped across the polished parquet..."
"What's a parquet?" asked Brian, his forehead creased with wonder.
"It's a futuristic thing, like a crumpet crossed with a park...now where was I...Oh that's right... "I skipped across the polished parquet..."
"What's a parquet?" asked Brian, his forehead creased with wonder.
"It's a futuristic thing, like a crumpet crossed with a park...now where was I...Oh that's right... "I skipped across the polished parquet..."
"What's a parquet?" asked Brian, his forehead creased with wonder.
"It's a futuristic thing, like a crumpet crossed with a park...now where was I...Oh that's right... "I skipped across the polished parquet..."
"What's a parquet?" asked Brian, his forehead creased with wonder. "It's a futuristic thing, like a crumpet crossed with a park...now where was I...Oh that's right...ENOUGH ALREADY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" screamed Space Baron, flecks of saliva around his mouth. "may I continue now?" he said. Brian nodded meekly so Space baron read on...
"I skipped across the polished parquet (Brian's mouth quivered but a sharp look from SB quickly shut him up), pulled back the curtains. Head Boys get the best room (nudge nudge wink wink); fabulous view over the Solent to the distant (here we go) robot cranes of Portsmouth. On quiet nights we could hear the distant rumble all night. Robot ships docking, rolling back their robot hatch-covers so that robot cranes could lift roboticised containers into robo-trucks. All in a robotically induced darkness. Robots don't need light. If a robot broke down, another robot mended it robotically. There hadn't been a human being inside Portsmouth for ten Robo-years (a robo-year is equivalent to one human year). Except for robo-theives. Robot security returned the theives to the robotic dock-gates in neat little fake-marble robo-urns, as robo-ashes, ready for robo-dispatch to their next of robo-kin. Robots robotted their robo-bots by robotically roboticising their robotations in their wacky robot way. Robotinisation had a robo-huge robotic impact on the robotinated robo-robo-robots, robots robiticantaed robots on roboday, robidy robidy robo-ping. hahahahahahahhahiihihihihihihhi. Robotic lunatic robo-asylums for robotinated robo-madmen certainly robonged roboffi robbbeddderrrr robo-phtang phtang.
THE END