They come, they whisper, they watch, they chop, chop, chop.

the manager of that boy band or else, maybe ...uhhhh... the pelicans with the full blessing of all them haters and ...uh... the intelligencia ...heh heh... have been living off the teat of the diary industry. and I know they ...er... pick who lives and who dies and what the football scores are going to be every week. ...wait... and sure as the nose on my face, I am sure they ...(cough)... ...er... were dialing in through the optics. ...okay, okay, but... and I know they ...uh... ate a whole jar of olives with those little green cops ...yeah, yeah, yeah... to keep down the innocents. ...uhhhh...