Another finger-on-the-pulse, current-events conversation from the cerebral sophisticates I share a cell office with. It is as sensitive and understanding as you might expect.
Final Words from the cockpit, as stored by the black-box recorder:
- Bet you can’t fly between those towers.
- Press it! Dare you! It doesn’t do anything, honest.
- Did you have the fish?
- Don’t worry, it’s not loaded.
- It’s a fucking mountain! Its not gonna shift.
- We gonna crash? OK. Try to aim for something solid. I don’t want to limp away from this sucker.
- Don’t bring that in here! If you spill it on any of this …
- Should it be making that noise?
- Sigh. Look, lets just look at this logically. Count the wings again …
- Right, put the blindfold on. Now we spin you round and round … that’s it. Now, here’s the pin …
- There’s something on the wing!
- Ever think that “Lost” may actually be quite a cool way to live?
- Nah, ignore it. It always comes on too early. There’s at least twice the amount in there that it says there is.
- Bet he’ll swerve first!
- Oh, not again. Look, just turn it off and on again. That’ll work. Should reboot in time. No, DON’T do check-disk!
- See much of Brazil?
I do apologise.