The sad weasels of ineptitude are once more gathering out on the wide-open plains of our once-proud car parks and our chips grow cold and stale as we ponder our dissolute kneecaps once more. There was a time, then there was another time and one after that, but that is the way it is with time, never standing still never hanging around looking for something to do, time is always on the move going somewhere.
We used to go somewhere too, even if it was only down the end of the road to admire the sun setting over the systems analysts as they played hopscotch. Each hopping over the discarded marshmallows scattered in panic as the undertakers were made to flee before the insidiously cheerful pamphlets of the religion-peddlers as they made their stiff be-suited way down a suddenly deserted street.
Back then we knew all the answers and would play Ludo until dawn, whilst our nasal-hair removal devices danced a solitary tango down along the banks of the canal. We knew then that the pork pies held all the secrets of the universe, if only we could get the top off the jar of mustard, back then though we were young, young and free, and we had all that time still to come.
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