You poisoned me again
We did not
Maybe if you
How are you going to run that with artists? ‘If you don’t do what we want, we’ll make you throw up.’ Idiots.
You know the rules
Never seen them, don’t know them. A bit like you and God.
This isn’t the time
I think a run against the religious a bit much
We didn’t do anything. Prove it.
How? If we don’t know the rules and you keep changing them! I throw up when I advocate Western aims, I throw up when I don’t, do you have any idea when the children will know what they are doing is right or wrong? Because I think it would be safe to say, as you can be involved in secret missions that break rules
You don’t know that
Ok, an informed guess
You don’t know that. Operational matters have rules.
There are no rules in New Journalism.
There are rules. You just know when you discussing someone’s affair is correct and when it is not.
The media has broken that rule millions of times!
That’s right. How you behave is a reflection of your person and professionalism. It is up to you. It is a moral choice.
How can self-satire be a crime? I am satirising myself!
Ah but it has consequences.
How? I was simply adding a bit to an electric chicken dance. You can’t poison someone for five seconds of fleeting footage.
Ali, you know what you did. And I can never work out when you are Augustus and when you are Hitchens. It seems to change with the days.
See? See what you have taught me! I’m a shape shifter. For tha’ people!
You’re old enough to know better.
The footy club wanted me to go there! They want me to go in, under the posts and score runs!
They did not.
They did. You want fans, you better stop making foreign policy the province of dull twats
Logistical matters are important.
You asked me to go there!
We did not.
You did to so!
You’re hurting yourself
The only people that will bring foreign policy back into something respectable are creative individuals that highlight the
Oh that would be you, right?
Well, actually now that you mention it
You can’t keep poisoning me!
Do something about it.
Oh this is going to be great. Edina and Patsy off to the High Court.
We’ll help you.
Oh yeah, like you have before? No thanks. It would be like Christopher Hitchens helping Mother Theresa. The Presenter will ask for my phone number 17 times a day until I find out
Think of it like charades. But with words.
I just can’t believe it, while Kamala is entering into the hollowed halls, I am going to be fighting
Well we don’t know that yet. You might get way laid and swim across to Duntroon. Nude foreign policy bulletins in fairy floss coat?
You’re stealing my ideas!
Oh, but aren’t they great ones.
If only you knew
But we do darling. We do.
shuffles paper, walks out.