THIS IS LORD TIM TO YOUNG TIM, COME IN, PLEASE – PLEASE! I MUST TALK TO YOU. WHEN DID WE LAST SPEAK? SEEMS LIKE AGES. MY MEMORY’S BEEN PLAYING TRICKS ON ME LATELY, AND I FIND MYSELF SIGHING LOUDLY WHENEVER I STAND UP.

NOBODY SEEMS TO KNOW WHO I AM AT THE HOUSE THESE DAYS – MEANWHILE THERE’S ALL SORTS OF STRIFE GOING ON: TEAR GAS ON THE STREETS; RUBBER BULLETS AND FOOD SHORTAGES… I GET CONFUSED ABOUT WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT. STAY IN AND KEEP MY HEAD DOWN.

KICK SAYS I’M BORING AND SEXIST, GOES OFF WITH HER ANGEL FRIENDS TO THE VENUS LOUNGE AND COMES HOME PARADIDDLED, BOINGED UP ON BAMALAM, TO FIND ME ASLEEP IN THE HOVERCHAIR, SNORING, THE FUTURIZER ON MY KNEE, YOUR FACE FROZEN ON THE SCREEN, ACROSS IT THE WORDS ‘ACCESS DENIED’ FLASHING ON AND OFF.

AND THE OTHER DAY KICK FOUND THIS POSTER, STUCK TO THE WINDOW OF HER SHOP.

AND I DON’T KNOW IF IT WAS PUT THERE BY IF OR THE WARP, THATS THE THING. AM I PART OF THE ESTABLISHMENT OR THE UNDERGROUND? YESTERDAY’S MAN OR TOMORROW'S? OH, AND TIM, MY BOY, MY DEAR, DEFENCELESS YOUNGERSELF - I’M SO WORRIED YOU’RE IN DANGER.
AND IF THE WARP GET YOU THEN I KNOW I’M DOOMED!


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