Getting OUT, getting out and running away to freedom, that would be sweet. But there's no place left to go to. You can't just make a graceful escape, because everywhere leads back IN, and all the roads go nowhere. That's not what they say though. They say that if you don't like it, lump it, else maybe you should leave. Say that, by staying, you're tacit, you're complicit in the scheme – you agree to concede a generous measure of yourself, and also agree to play by the all the rules in rulebook and jump into the ocean and tow the party line with your teeth.

What do I want to be I grow up? Ah, that's a tricky one. I want to an astronaut. I want to be a fireman. I want to be; a river, in full flood, that bursts it's banks in tempestuous laughter and covers the city in dying fish they must then clear away with bulldozers.

I want to be a punchline without the joke.