Dale comes swinging in through the double doors in a cloud of smoke and I tell you, I’ve had long-burnt chips in the oven that’ve smelled better than that. So I ask him,

“Dale, how’d it go in there?” and he says,

“Oh dandy, Chris, just fine. Like a furnace in there as always, but just fine.”

I can see his goggles have gone and he’s covered in soot, but his hood’s still on and he’s all suited up, so it must have been an okay run. I stick the air conditioning on: high.

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Ozymandias gets slung out of a nightclub. He’s in the gutter swilling teeth, jaw shattered against the kerb.

Babylon was his once; he was ‘the man’, the ‘king of kings’: money, Maserati and gold tooth gleaming.

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