You Know, You're Rather Amusingly

And So The Children Of The Revolution Were Faced With The Age-old Problem: It Wasn't That You Had The Wrong Kind Of Government, Which Was Obvious, But That You Had The Wrong Kind Of People. As Soon As You Saw People As Things To Be Measured, They Didn't Measure Up.

Real Children Do Not Go Hoppity Skip Unless They Are On Drugs.

And, As Always Happens, And Happens Far Too Soon, The Strange And Wonderful Becomes A Memory And A Memory Becomes A Dream. Tomorrow It's Gone.

You Can't Build A Plot Out Of Jokes. You Need Tragic Relief. And You Need To Let People Know That When A Lot Of Frightened People Are Running Around With Edged Weaponry, There Are Deaths. Stupid Deaths, Usually. I'm Not Writing 'the A-team' - If There's A Fight Going On, People Will Get Hurt. Not Letting This Happen Would Be A Betrayal.

Time Is A Drug. Too Much Of It Kills You.