Humming an ode to the frenzied thrill seekers among us with their skulls cracked, our favourite hooligan is regurgitating secondhand clouds while borrowing sugar coated time from a lunar eclipse. Looping an ultrasound before making hummus was his answer to everything. He loved to add holographic juniper in his sauerkraut, with a pinch of disdain, and a drop of anti-establishment just for spite. There was no breach of trust, but the triangle of gluttony had been reached. Fasten your seatbelt, the octopus is paralysed, publicly haunted by the thrill sought thereafter.