Mr Fitzgibbons

“You see, the world was originally in my possession, but along the way somewhere it slipped out of my control. Don’t you DARE move your hand! Keep - it – exactly – THERE…

…God that stinks…it reminds me of the ovens…dark days they were…not that you’d know anything about THAT, with your portable-music-systems and your fancy clothes. I remember the first time I threw a brick at a man’s head, as if it was yesterday. I drift back there, and the crunch of skull and squish of brains permeates my consciousness like so much perfume! Time was, I was a muscular, powerful modern-day warrior – DON’T MOVE YOUR FUCKING HAND I TOLD YOU ONCE ALREADY – and many little tarts writhed beneath my sinewy frame. I once managed to actually grab a pigeon’s wing as it flew past, I was that quick…I tore the stupid thing off and gave it to the woman I was seeing…the colonel’s wife. STOP WRIGGLING. I waited for the wing to harden and mummify somewhat, before displaying it in a fine leather case and presenting it to the lady…it had the instant effect of destroying THAT burgeoning relationship, I must say! Ha ha ha ha!

…your screaming is incredibly vulgar. Did you see that film on the television a few years ago? I believe it was an Antipodean production, concerning a little robot designed to rob banks. Always found that an amusing diversion, that piece. I am not long for this world…

…now Dorothy, you slag…my work is done. I have succeeded in burning off your left hand over this little gas stove, a stove that has actually been in possession since I was in the Cadets. Please adjourn to the garden shed and whimper there. I intend to imbibe a few glasses of port and complete Donkey Kong Country”