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Ever get the feeling you’re being cheated?
Kneeling at the crumbling altar of whichever fake idol you’ve decided is THE REAL ONE.
Watching as the 21st century reveals itself as the historic equivalent of a lagered up bar brawl.

Best not get involved…”He’s not worth it, Tracy”. Walk away and pretend like it isn’t happening.
Head back to your castle and hide your head in the latest Netflix or whatever distraction you can muster.
Meanwhile the altars continue to crumble, and the plebs scrabble for the crumbs.

SCRABBLE
SCRABBLE
SCRABBLE
SCRABBLE

They’re sharpening the knives, and we’re first – amuse bouche at a banquet for the end of the world.
The end of our world, anyway, the cockroaches will be just fine.
When the blindfold is taken off, you’ve pinned the tail on the wrong donkey, span around so many times you couldn’t tell a donkey from your neighbour any more.

SCRABBLE
SCRABBLE
SCRABBLE
SCRABBLE

You couldn’t make it up, except lots of people have, but this story has a cast of characters more like a straight-to-video than an Orwell novel.
And us? We’re all just extras in one final vanity project, the last days of Hollywood writ large, no need for expensive special effects.
Put on your make-up, son, and make sure you’re wearing your clean pants.

SCRABBLE
SCRABBLE
SCRABBLE
SCRABBLE