Psst!



Eric.



Yes.



What is it, Eric? Fire, famine, pestilence, flood, earthquake, murder, road accident, collapse of the economy, rupture of the moral fiber of the...?



Are you being sarcastic to me, Sir?



Possibly. I haven't decided, yet.



Let me know when you have.



Where are you going? Come back here!



I thought you'd need a little time.



Um. Do you understand the concept of "dead air"?



Isn't that like when you come back from hols and the heater nor the fan has been on, only someone forgot to flush the bog...?



Er... No. It is the sound of the ether being unagitated by anything other than a carrier wave.



Ah. Like the sound between channels?



Yes.



I like that sound.



Well, the old boyos in Upper Manglement don't.



Don't they? I've heard some strange avante garde things on Drey Horse's Choice!



Yes, well. They don't like spontaneous, unartful outbursts of sudden silence...



Is that why you talk so much?


silence


You embarrass easily for someone so much in the public ear.



You sound much like me mum.



She used to say that?



No. I've got me fingers stuffed in me ears and you sound much like me mum does when I do that.



Ah. Would she consider that to be a compliment?



I don't know. Does she know you?



I don't know. Has she ever been here?



Just a couple of times. She's the lady in the gingham dress and the motorcycle helmet who runs in to throw paper bags at me.



Oh. Her. I thought she was part of some tranny delivery service. What's in them?


Marmite and Curry sandwiches and new y-fronts.


Good Night, Everybody!