In the deepest, darkest unused cupboard-space of your soul, there is a corner where the Trilobites Of Despair hold their Annual General Meeting (with fully-catered dinner/dance for all employees and their immediate families to follow).
It is easy top tell when the Trilobites Of Despair are dancing late into the night in the very depths of your soul as all things seem below worth or even interest - the mere daytime TV of the soul. The place where even the products from the great artists of music and literature seem as dull, worthless and pointless as the witterings of a radio DJ, seemingly leaving you trapped forever in the intellectual Marie Celeste that is contemporary popular culture.
But, then, the green shoots of promise are never far below the surface, no matter how long the Trilobites Of Despair have revelled deep in your soul. You know, deep down, that soon the utterances of politicians and their media pundits will bring about that slight puckering that precedes the wry smile of acknowledgement you get when you detect the first signs of egregious political mendacity, media self-absorption and the incestuous symbiosis that keeps both forever in their mutually satisfying embrace. You know that one day soon they will reach that point when they both instantaneously disappear up each other's arseholes never to be seen or heard from ever again. It is only then you will know for sure that you will never again have to suffer the Trilobites Of Despair.
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