“Come on then you naughty duplicitous Paparazzo pranny, let’s do this!”, you chirrup, doing a little dance on the spot. “My leige”, you add, for some reason.
You get in a bin.
You stay there shivering for fourteen hours until you catch sight of a newspaper clipping floating past in the cold winter breeze.
YOU CAN’T START A REVOLUTION FROM A BIN.
Written by James Rose