People would have to be
told that if they refuse to
answer questions when they might
be expected to answer
questions, that is something
which can be used at the
trial and which might strengthen
the case against them.
Hang Michael Howard, oh c'mon...
Act one, the smell of green leather,
French polish, quite pristine,
not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle,
not a crease,
the silverware all clean.
Exquisite chaussures grace
marble floors,
be upstanding, for men of yore.
But wait, who's this,
sticky under the collar in Elsinore?
Enter silent comedy geek with
dynamite down his pants.
Nervous, shuffling on his feet,
leading a merry song and dance.
A back seat driver of good moral fibre,
holding up the light. He's
made his own bed,
now he's got to lie in it. Ho hum,
it serves him right.
Act three, 'I am the lord
of the dance,
' said he. John the Baptist,
dripping wet, playing sir politick- would-
be.
Backslapping, backsliding,
back to basic instincts,
backfiring.
By your own choice you're
on a hiding to nothing,
I ask you which is more comforting?
The thought that I am bad seed,
gone to seed, turned sour by
TV sex and violence.
Or even worse,
am I unleashed by my own volition to
do you ill? 'Condemn a little more,
understand a little less.' Oh sad sir,
thou jest! Ha ha! I am Prometheus,
prepare thee to meet thy nemesis.