Euthamnesia

Whingeing ill-thinker, Sir Terence 'not quite yet!' Pratchett, wants to die. But unfortunately at a time of his choosing, not ours. Still, at least he's lasted long enough to have to take out his desperate 'best-selling living English' wet-pants boast from his blurbs. When he's dead there'll be slightly more than Harry Botter to be beaten by. Croeso i Lanfihangel-y-Creuddun, Sir Terence 'not quite yet! Pratchett! -

STP:- Where am I? -

REJ:- Switzerland! -

STP:- Oooh goody! -

REJ:- Just my little joke!, no, you're in Llanfihangel-y-creuddun -

STP:- Where am I? -

REJ:- Hmmmm...never mind -

STP:- Yes, that's what I want -

REJ:- Won't be long. But perhaps don't take anyone with you. Nawrte, you'd best be coherent for a bit. As close as you can manage -

STP:- If one of your cats was writheing in agony -

REJ:- Why is it writheing in agony? -

STP:- I don't know, maybe it got run over -

REJ:- But I've taught my cats the Green Cross Code -

STP:- Well maybe it was distracted, chasing a mouse -

REJ:- Ooooh! they do do that yes! And the mouse is certainly in for some agony -

STP:- Yes, well cats are more important than mice. Now I'd like to talk a bit about the religious arguments against euthanasia -

REJ:- Why? -

STP:- Well, they're easy to beat -

REJ:- Consider them beaten -

STP:- But they're my best moves -

REJ:- Wel, just pretend we've played them, and you've forgotten -

STP:- Where am I? -

REJ:- I'll do it for you in a minute -

STP:- Not quite yet! -

REJ:- Your sincerity shines through every pore. Quacks pop 'em off daily as it is. You must have never met a drunk doctor -

STP:- There's no such thing! Besides, that would be against the law, and so not happen. Look at my official shitstistics - that's what we should go on. You see, you just have to write things down neatly, and neat things will have happened, and even neater things will happen in the future, as long as you get the wording right -

REJ:- You're very persuasive -

STP:- That's because I'm a risen ape! Now imagine I'm writheing in agony -

REJ:- Mmmmmm.....Hang on a mo, why are you writheing in agony? -

STP:- I'm in one of Mother Teresa's hospitals -

REJ:- Wel, what if you weren't? -

STP:- Just pretend I am. Otherwise it all falls apart -

REJ:- Oooh, like a human -

STP:- Ok, I'm not writheing in agony then. But I'm bored, very bored -

REJ:- Try reading a book. I mean a good one -

STP:- I haven't got eyes -

REJ:- An audio book then -

STP:- I haven't got ears -

REJ:- Wel, try making up physics -

STP:- Look! I just want to die, but you won't let me -

REJ:- Be your guest, it's your body. We're not in France -

STP:- No I mean I want someone else to do it for me -

REJ:- Why? -

STP:- It makes it easier of course. Besides, I might forget -

REJ:- You want to make it easier -

STP:- Where am I? -

REJ:- You want to make it easier -

STP:- Where am I? -

REJ:- You want to make it easier -

STP:- Where am I? Oh, here. Yes, easier. I want to make it easier for me. The easiest thing in the world to do. I want to make it easier. Because I'm dull as fuck and therefore not fit to do it myself or even decide -

REJ:- No one gives a fuck what you do to yourself, not that you have one iota of integrity, since we can still hear you bleating. It's who else you make it easier for -

STP:- Well how rude. What if I were writheing in agony? Did I say I might be? I can't remember -

REJ:- ffs. Someone put him out of my misery -

STP:- Yes! No! I mean not quite yet! Wait until I'm brain-dead -

REJ:- Wel, you asked for it, so that makes it your fault...*pillow!* -

STP:- No!, stop!, I want to see the alps! I want to smell the eidelweiss! I want to -

REJ:- Look, you want to die, sort of, I want you dead, the answer must be somewhere. Perhaps in this very room...

STP:- It is sometimes very hard to kill someone -

REJ:- Don't count on it -

STP:- But if only I could make it easier - perhaps with some sort of automatic weapon, some sort of blunt instrument -

REJ:- You mean, a law? -

STP:- Yes! A law! I want that to be my legacy. The right to an automatic weapon of death. There would be no mis-killings, because I would have humans in charge of it. There would be checks and balances, highly trained pin-point accuracy psychiatry, that sort of thing. Anyone who has received a terminal prognosis -

REJ:- Like a birth certificate -

STP:- Yes! Like a birth certificate - anyone who has received a terminal prognosis would be granted the ultimate freedom, to have something made easier, that they wouldn't have done if it wasn't, as might be guessed by the fact that they haven't. Yes. -

REJ:- Have you ever sent a text you later regretted? -

STP:- This is a bit more serious than texting. More like a letter -

REJ:- Have you ever been talked into a haircut you didn't like? -

STP:- This is a bit more serious than a haircut. More like a tattoo -

REJ:- Have you ever bought anything you didn't want, without knowing why? -

STP:- Look you're just being silly now -

REJ:- Do you think there might be silly people? Somewhere -

STP:- I doubt it. Besides this would be more like a will -

REJ:- Have you ever wanted to influence a will? -

STP:- Certainly not! -

REJ:- How about unconsciously? -

STP:- Uncertainly not! -

REJ:- If we stop thinking about you for a moment - which would be nice - do you think there might be people of negotiable morality? Somewhere? Anywhere at all? -

STP:- Not when it comes to death. Besides there would be a questionnaire to be filled in afterwards, via a medium -

REJ:- Ok, you win. I've lost the will to go on. Will you kill me please? I'm begging in agony -

STP:- No! I'll just watch! haha! I'm not doing time for anyone! Writhe away! In agony! I only care about me, you see.

The Pope's Bollocks

Kid fucking collaborator goat-eyed failed Nazi Pope Joseph 'by their fruits' Ratzinger, with his signature on the fucking papers, not in blood, but it might as well be, has redundant testicles. Or so we thought. But they have a mind of their own and have sprung into action with the hasty erection of a ninternet advice webspurt, available 24/7, for bishops unsure who to mate. Croeso i Lanfihangel-y-creuddun, Joseph's bollocks! -

JB:- Must find um hole. All is forgiven -

REJ:- Now you've got a billion members -

JB:- Must find um hole. All is forgiven -

REJ:- You've got objective morality, so is fucking children right or wrong? -

JB:- All is forgiven -

REJ:- Can you expand? -

JB:- Spare rod spoil child. All is forgiven -

REJ:- Should nuns beat children with sticks? -

JB:- All is forgiven -

REJ:- Are you a cunt? -

JB:- That is scary witch-word. No I am bollocks. All is forgiven. Except words -

REJ:- Do you think the pixels cunt will upset women 80%, men 20%, and how do you know that sort of thing? Can genitalia be manipulated remotely? Could they in any way be connected to minds, perhaps by some sort of nervous system, could the signal depend on the receiver? Could transcription be done in the minds? Could mens rea be with the receiver? Could it be invalid? Could the actus be predicted? Could what people get up to in the bedroom be nobody's business, but every gene's business? Could people who say it the loudest need to hear it the most? Are they talking to themselves, the one's who would censor? The censor is the psychopath, for ideas can only be killed.

JB:- ?

REJ:- Do you think you might be backward in any way? Sort of retarded? Like a voodoo nigger? -

JB:- You um sed 2 naughty words now. But not fuck children. You priorities all wrong. All is forgiven. But not you -

REJ:- Should the nigger cunt Mugabe be popped off? Or should he starve millions? -

JB:- You um racist. But not Jews. You um not read book properly. All is forgiven. But not that -

REJ:- Should Assad have an unfortunate Mossadaccident, or is he buying too many russian tanks? -

JB:- You um not read parable of talents. All is forgiven. Apart from ghost-denial -

REJ:- Can you make money out of AIDS, promoting death, and what do you need earth-money for anyway? -

JB:- Me make umself big in third world. All is forgiven. -

REJ:- Can we see the accounts? -

JB:- That is not for given -

REJ:- Can I ask, are you Satan? -

JB:- Sh.

REJ:- Can you turn a wafer into Jesus, and if I eat it will I shit him onto God, omnipresent in the toilet? -

JB:- This is um sophisticated theology -

REJ:- Could Jesus alter physics, apart from nails, and why was it a surprise to be forsaken by himself? -

JB:- What has this um got to do with um fucking children? -

REJ:- It's how you get away with it -

JB:- Um priests must be um gay. Because if you count kid fuckers they are mostly straight. Yes. -

REJ:- If you wanted to fuck children, what um job would you get? -

JB:- We are um equal opportunities employer -

REJ:- Do you think the best candidate for universe creation would find books a) Hard to make, b) A stupid idea anyway, c) Written by people. Perhaps with their fucking names at the top? -

JB:- It is um mysterious -

REJ:- How much can you eat while people starve? -

JB:- Someone is coming with um bread and fishes -

REJ:- Are you the biggest cunt the world has ever seen? -

JB:- Well no, not really. I'm just a copy, an archetype. I've no power without the masses. It's a group delusion as they bleed into one another. Chameleon minds. I believe them, they believe me. Each reflects another. It's simple. The old boss worked it well, didn't he? The diffusion of responsibility. Now stop making rude pixels and concentrate on fucking children and killing people. What on earth are you doing? All is forgiven. Good idea, isn't it? Might be worth something, that. God helps those who help themselves. To children. Let us prey.

Why E =/ mc²

On a journey of thought, each must alight at his stop...

REJ:- Wel. Apparently I have to find a job. I think Sioned said it was to pay for the building. Although to me it looks like the building is already builded, and there is no actual building going on to be paid for. Now when Marx was first confused by Hegel -

Sioned:- I am here you know -

REJ:- No cariad! It doesn't look big at all! And in fairness, chwarae teg, it is quite a small room...

Sioned:- *Sosban! *

REJ:- *Ooof! * Iesu mawr ofnadwy diawl yffern!* *etc *

Sioned:- 3 hours choosing this! I don't know why I bother! *slam! *

REJ:- Yes please!, two sugars. Have one yourself. Oooh! Where's she gone? Never mind. I made my own yesterday, and not much went wrong. Let's see......nawrte boys.....must skip the rygby.....dim ond 15 pages..... aha! The classifieds. 'Wanted:- Niwclear scientist. Must like sand. Fully funded pension pot...' Hmmm....Wel I did visit Trawsfynydd that time....Oooh! What's this? 'Wanted:- Motorcycle dispatch rider. Must like sand. Yiddish speaker preferred'. Wel, how silly. Binary is the language of heaven. Wel, I tried. Helo! Who's this?! -

AE:- Zer ist nicht ein magic maus! -

REJ:- Wel, that's good to know -

AE:- Aber mein pet scanner machen gut. Ich bin positive about that -

REJ:- A pet is for life, not just for brecwast. I'm an electron multiplier -

AE:- Undt zehr vell behaved zey are too. Ich bin machened kaput mit never solven it. Undt es ist annoyenning. Ich canst keinen resten! -

REJ:- ffs – you're half German, REJ -

AE:- Aber nicht zee sprechen bit -

REJ:- Wel, why don't you phone your mutti? -

AE:- Sie vill vollen zee fiver back -

REJ:- Good point -

AE:- Undt zee other fivers -

REJ:- That's enough of that, let's not get off on the wrong foot. Besides, I did a thought experiment and concluded she wouldn't like second-hand money. Anyway, you haven't made a proper entrance yet. You're supposed to make an entrance. And turn into an animal or something. Makes it clearer you see -

AE:- ? -

REJ:- Looks like I have to do everything. OK, you can be a magic maus. Irony sortofthing -

AE:- Eeeeek! -

REJ:- One that can speak, you banana. Otherwise it's not going to work at all -

AE:- Ich vollen ein cheese. Mit biscuits -

REJ:- Up the IQ ein bischen -

AE:- Iesu mawr! -

REJ:- A touch more -

AE:- Un funud fach cyn elo'r haul o'r wybren, un funud fwyn cyn delo'r hwyr i'w hynt, I gofio am y pethau anghofiedig -

REJ:- That'll do. Now switch back to Cherman. And stop nibbling my laces -

AE:- It Vas on ze tag of 29 may 1919, zat ich habered ze greatest momentum of mein life -

REJ:- You got picked for outside-half? -

AE:- Nein -

REJ:- You lost a pfenning and found a mark? -

AE:- Nein -

REJ:- Am I getting warm? -

AE:- Nein -

REJ:- You've just called the police on my smartphone -

AE:- Ich vill asken fur ambulance -

REJ:- Wel. That won't do any good, you should call the vet -

AE:- Zer vill be nicht any keinen more interuptionnens. Ich vas machen ze lookchen at ze eclipsennachtsky mit fingers crossed, ven zer it vas! Ze licht bendenning! Gott in himmel aber nicht mit spielen dice! Ich exclammenned. Ich vas right. Undt now sein Satnav machen gut. Undt zat bomben thingy. Undt -

REJ:- Iesu Mawr!

AE:- Up a touch -

REJ:- FlippenflappenVindscreenVappen! Feynman never signed that petition, you know -

AE:- Never machenminden. Ich vas going to machen sprecht undt 50 zillion other thingens -

REJ:- I'd love to see how this Googletranslates into Russian -

AE:- Ich thinken much zehr better -

REJ:- Wel. It looks like you were right then -

AE:- Ya!, ya!, everywhere except ver Ich vas wrong. Ze other 50 zillion thingens. Observationnens. Ich binned 99.9% right fur ein century. Aber Ich could nicht machen it fitzen mit ze others vot ver also sprach 99.9% right aber incompatible. Es ist annoyenning, like vot I sed -

REJ:- Vel, I mean wel, I wouldn't worry about it, Cox is on the job -

AE:- *Eeeeek! * *pop! *

REJ:- Hmmm,,,, One of the cats must have scared him. Helo? Who's this? -

DH:- Och. It's me. -

REJ:- So it is. Er -

DH:- Och. Etc. I telt youse, passion leads reason -

GhostofghostofAEinmouseform:- Die fatten fucker hast ein mirror! -

REJ:- Sense now boys! And ghosts of ghost-mice! Let's keep this friendly -

DH:- Ah'm here tae dae a wee bit about empirical doubt, and then a save, just tae clear things up -

REJ:- Will that take long? Only if my chair's not real, give me a wink first so I can stand up before you say it -

DH:-It might no be real, but then neither would the argument against it -

REJ:- I'm standing up, just in case. I feel like singing! Mae hen wlad fy nhadau yn annwyl i -

AE:- Nicht again! *pop! * -

DH:- My books are rightbuttrite boring, timorous beastie, so I'll just say empiricism is kosher -

AE:- Zat ist gut. It vill annoyen Verner. Aber varum are you hieren then? -

DH:- Ich – bollox! - Ah'm here to do that miracle thing -

AE:- Ich nichten believen sie -

DH:- Yes that one. Er....something about a spider in a cave....a wee one....

REJ:- Don't worry, no one reads them -

DH:- If Fatima throws a spear a million times, and a billion people claim she is a man, we should believe -

*click! *

REJ:- Diawl yffern! Sioned's back! If she heard that you're for it! Quick! Out the window! *Shove! * -

DH:- Och! But the door - *Splat! * -

REJ:- A mere aspect of geometry! er...or is it a wavicular wind from the Caspian Sea? -

Sioned:- Wel? Did you get a job? Let me guess -

REJ:- Ah, my little tip-tackling prop forward! You see it's like this. I was just about to get a job, when -

Sioned:- Emmanuel Jones! If you're going to say someone dead came through the catflap, changed into an animal, and stopped you doing what I asked – again – wel, don't bother! Seriously, don't bother -

REJ:- No Cariad! I wouldn't dream of it! You've got me all wrong! Nothing came through the catflap at all -

Sioned:- Wel, that's something I suppose -

REJ:- But under the sofa is the ghost of the ghost of the ghost of a magic mouse who is Einstein, and then Hume -

Sioned:- ?!*^!?!!

*Cutaway a la Hitchcock.....dog scrabbling at door * etc -

REJ:- *Implausible recovery! * Nope, definitely more Mars than Venus there -

Sioned:- If that didn't knock some sense into you, nothing will. *Slam! * etc -

REJ:- Come to think of it, I do feel a bit different actually. Sort of sharper -

EW:- Mathematics is unreasonably effective in the natural sciences. It is not at all natural that laws of nature exist, much less that man is able to discover them. The miracle of the appropriateness of the language of mathematics for the formulation of the laws of physics is a wonderful gift, which we neither understand or deserve. -

REJ:- *Cough! * …. *Ahem! I do feel strange * -

A crassly circular blunder, reminiscent of Cox et lhc al's non-objective datum projected singularity, accompanied by the usual embarrassing neotenous giggles, or of any fatuous fine-tuning fantasy of creationists of either ilk. You can't completely check one theory against fundamental reality from within it, since you lack an external calibrant. You can't have logic wrong, as statement or conclusion. Philosophy is complete with logic = true. The rest is extrapolation or invalid. When an observation is illogical, something is wrong, somewhere in the chain. Large numbers are but small numbers multiplied. Large numbers of observations are but small numbers of observations multiplied. Simplify by mere division. Remove all multiples and stand back from the shoulders of giants to see.

The number of components of an experiment does not affect validity. Since empirical theories are ultimately calibrated against one another – the only way – they can only distil to minimum two fundamental, eternally incompatible, yet both working higher up – since that's how they were distilled. The Scientific Method – guess, check – works all the way up to singular fundamental science, when you run out of anything to check against. It is difficult to fancy what they were expecting to see when they got there – all claim there is an end of the rainbow to be reached – but I'd expect fundamental theories incompatible, indivisible, and nonsense on dials.

Now who would deny a billion observations? The exponents of either fundamental theory would deny the other's. This is invalid. The experiment becomes valid only as a whole, with the emergent composite uber-observation. Manifold and mutually exclusive theories from the same, repeatable data = suspect data. The valid observation becomes the century of observations viewed in their entirety, root and branch. The valid conclusion is only latterly possible, once the tree of knowledge has grown.

We return to poor Wigner. Maths is a language like any other. Maths is accelerated words, nifty algorithms accelerated maths. Central to the surprise that fundamentally incorrect theories should work so well, and precipitate further successful condensate equations and functional technology and tests within reality absolute, is the mysterious obeisance of the universe to mathematics. The mystery evaporates on noticing that mathematics is but a language, it's mysterious law is logic, and this is presupposed in application such as in the universality of physics as an arbitrary axiom, alongside a plethora of exceptions we are told to similarly arbitrarily ignore where physics breaks down. Thus the descriptive and predictive power of mathematics is intrinsic to the application of the method. The surprise then reduces to the fact that science works. This is because science that doesn't work is discarded. Wigner is far from alone in being smitten by nothing.

EW:- *Pop! *

The point is which branches will bear further fruit, the point of learning how the magic works is to learn how to work the magic, the projection of mathematics to 'elsewhere' for unification is invalid and fruitless -

REJ:- Ah! It's little Ethan Emmanuel Jones bach! Wel, there's lovely isn't it? Give us a song boy! -

EEJ:- O'r gorau. *Twinkle twinkle, little star, how I wonder * -

REJ:- Oooh! Do that german one! For a friend of mine -

EEJ:- *Schlaft in himmlische ruhhhhh.....uhhhhhh, Schlaft in himmlische ruhhhhhhh * -

REJ:- Nos da, Albert, cysgu'n dawel.

On Writing

Now you see what I did there, in the omission, the bit you can't see. The last two poems may appear contradictory, or hazy at least, as if searching. This is impressionism painted in words that should not be read in three dimensions alone. I wrote them in the other order, another direction. The brushstroke can be a sleight of mind. I say I, when I know there are no individuals, and there is no writing. We put an impression of a paradox in there. REJ regrets he is unable to correct everyone. He uses 1st and 3rd person, but is neither. Translation is delegated by necessity, perfection unreadable.

There are two forms of writing - plagiarism that is noticed, and plagiarism that isn't. A word is a bucket, it contains many meanings, none objective, each a currency. Each synonym therein is itself a composition, supposedly wedded to one meaning, yet we may hear the echo of many mistresses. Each word before and after changes this again. Pictures are closer, more direct. Music is the larger canvas, permitting chords.

Pome for the day

Magic, magic beating bag,
Thread of starshine,
Stitch of spacetime,
Bag for life, bag for death,
Inbetween the thought of breath
Shines as droplets on the web,
Glistens frozen time so captured
Raptured once, then wove again,
All is one but now and then.

The Time Serpent

Mr E he had a thought
A compound lie to get to nought
And that's because we all believe
The answers that our thoughts conceive

He thought there was no flow of time
He thought it later, but that's fine
For locally so it would look
To set the pages in the book

Now if you try to watch a clock
Within it then your time I mock
Before his time he decohered
And then the problem disappeared

Perhaps he didn't want to go
Perhaps he couldn't see it so
Perhaps he found it all too queer
If not dead true then gosub fear

The strange case of Dr.Bendi and the something else. Part the IVth perhaps.

REJ:- Indeed. Wel, it's a blwyddyn newydd and no mistake. The Sun has gone around the Earth once more, the Earth has risen and fallen towards the snow, the electric atmosphere is in the meter, and the Swans are in the Premiership -

Sioned:- What sort of a shit intro is that? For a start the Earth -

REJ:- It looked the same -

Sioned:- You haven't looked at f all on Earth since I bought you that -

REJ:- ...And as I gaze, in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds thy hands hath *Ooof!*

Sioned:- Six inch refractor my arse *slam!*

REJ:- Hmmm...wrong move order perhaps. Anyway I was thinking - on the way back from the Llew Coch to the Llew Ddu neithiwr, that there wasn't half an awesome wonder lot of dots in the sky. I counted 12, but Dai Penweddig swore he counted 16. At least he swore 16 times. He did. Yes. Er - was that a whoop I heard? -

Dr.B:- No.

REJ:- Good. I thought for a moment -

Dr.B:- It was 2 moments actually, really ten. 7 non-thought and 3 thought later. The -

REJ:- And just past the Lamb & Flag, by the bottle recycling - clear not green or mixed - I

Dr.B:- Or brown -

REJ:- Yes, or not brown either, I saw a shooting star and immediately thought of Simon Cowell -

Dr.B:- Not immediately -

REJ:- Aha! I see how you did it this time! How you snuck in without me noticing. It was inbetween notices -

Dr.B:- Whoop! Whoop! You're later compositions until you decompose and can't get any laters yous illuded by persistence of envisions driven by entropy geared through hierarchical homeostatis and extrinsic filtered inputs. Conscious transfers across physical platforms continually as cells die in the brain. You are many times new you -

REJ:- And.... he's off.

Dr.B:- This means we can engineer later subjective reality and -

REJ:- And I can eat a pastie. Look fuck off with your conscious trivia. I can't see how -

Dr.B:- You can't see through yourself -

REJ:- You can't look after yourself -

Dr.B:- Lets look after each other -

REJ:- I'm fairtrade I'm afraid -

Dr.B:- So am I. We are the plucky ones -

REJ:- I don't see dead people -

Dr.B:- Correct! It is irrelevant. That's why I mentioned it. Science can be done unconsciously and always has been, between every thought. The foundational epistemology is logic = true. You can't prove it isn't! The rest is extrapolation or invalid. Paraconsistent logic is invalid. Invalid I say! -

REJ:- I heard you later. Why are you stuck to the wall btw? -

Dr.B:- I think it's the static -

REJ:- What's static? -

Dr.B:- I am. So is the world, but the scenery is moving at the speed of light. The speed of light is not the speed of light. The points of reference are -

REJ:- I bet if I didn't interrupt you, we'd see how much you really know -

Dr.B:- Touche Turtle away! You can't resist it! Besides I am a Dr. Fermi Who alien from the previous future elsewhere, and I know everything. I'm going to tell you -

REJ:- You're sufficiently advanced as to be indistinguishable from tragic -

Dr.B:- Wrong! I'm not going to tell you that. Where are you going? -

REJ:- I thought I could just read it later later. I hate these ones live -

Dr.B:- You want to try being me. There's a picture hook scratching a mole on my back. Whoop! etc. Peep! perhaps.

REJ:- I'll get you a swannee whistle, mother Clanger -

Dr.B:- Little clanger to mothership! Come in mothership! Remote scanning device malfunctioning! I'm going in! Local percept electromag fullbeam and zigzag motion! Transgalactic Nav disabled! To the isolated agrarian! Anus estimation was incorrect! Repeat incorrect! We're going to need a bigger probe!

*Swannee!*

REJ:- ffs.

Dr.B:- I've landed on the crown of the tree of knowledge.

REJ:- *tiptoe! Sneak!*

Dr.B:- You want sound effects for that. Anyway I've landed on the crown of the tree of knowledge -

REJ:- No, you've just knocked the vase over -

Dr.B:- I must insist I have landed on the crown of the tree of knowledge! -

REJ:- Whatever you say. Just get it over with. Wtf are you laternow doing up there? -

Dr.B:- I'm a glitter ball! Glitter in my head! Heads in bits! Download! *Oooof!* Now there I was an apple -

REJ:- Wel, you can explain the mess to Sioned. And don't plant those empty bottles this time -

Dr.B:- Now Prune!!! Prune like you've never pruned before! -

REJ:- I haven't -

Dr.B:- Prune the twigs! Prune the tree! The maps are not the territory! -

REJ:- Worst rhyme ever -

Dr.B:- Now you can't start at the top until it's grown. And if you're on a twig you can't see the tree.

REJ:- I'll lop off media studies then - *lop!*

Dr.B:- Down we go! Down the trunk! BioChemPhys sums debunk! -

REJ:- The maths is not the territory! -

Dr.B:- That's it! Join in. Now what was it? Was logic the seed, and the branches equations? -

REJ:- I think psychosis was the seed, and -

Dr.B:- No! It wasn't that! *Peep! Whoop! Swannee!* Down the empirical miracle tree! The roots are invalid just like you and me! -

REJ:- Here, have a bed.

Dr.B:- Thanks. Yes bed. Seedbed. Yes. You end up with minimum 2 roots that can't be intwined into 1. Do not make up more roots. No. They'll all be invalid however long. Thirst! Thirst for knowledge! The thirst remains strong! Strong but wrong, diddly dong! 99.9diddly9% right, is wrong!. x2.

REJ:- *click!* Ah, Prof Cox is on. Again. Duw!, that's a big telescope. Mine's tiny next to his. I wonder how far his can see outside? Sioned says size doesn't matter when it comes to Cox. I suppose it is subjective after all.