Beep.

Hysterical.

I can't remember anything of the journey. 

Boris says I was in a mind altered state which shifted from mania one moment to utter exhaustion the next. But I feel positive. The world appears to be returning to its normal colours. The hues are still off, that is for sure, but things seem more level and, more importantly, the darkness is gone.

Before us stands a gated complex, and bright white buildings tower high into the sky and disappear among the clouds. This New Slough is a sight to behold. Truly a wonder of the modern world. 

I actually feel happy. Is this where I belong? Am I home?

Maybe here I will be accepted. Maybe here I will be valued.

The automatic gates are nifty, like something out of Star Hike. Gosh, it's so pristine and clean to the core. I wonder if there are angels at work? I can only imagine. 

Bloody tall building. How do you know it is the right one, Boris?

Boris ...?

He knows the code to get in. Is my good friend more important in this world than I am aware of? Boris you are an enigma, but then you have always been a mystery. 

Boris is talkative now, but his face appears un-emotive. Is he the same person? His facial features appear to have changed. His nose seems shorter, his hair less thick. 

Did he always look like this? Great folly. I can't remember what he looked like to begin with.

 Must be the tea. Yes, this bloody tea is taking its toil. I am sure they will have an antidote in their sophisticated laboratories. 

Why do I feel so happy, Boris? I want to dance. Oh please, Boris. Just a little waltz. Nothing too fancy. I bet you are quite a mover, Boris. I can see it in your hips.

Well, Boris, how rude. You don't have to get like that. I'm just feeling happy, that's all. I'm going to sing. 

I'm in the mooood for  dancing, romancing. Ooh I'm giving it all tonight,

Those Nolan Sisters knew how to do a tune, eh Boris? Oh cheer up, grumpy.

Hang on.

This isn't right.

Why do I feel so happy? What is this strange surge of joy? I don't like the Nolan Sisters.

 Boris tells me the air here is of the purest form. He explains that in the outside world the air is putrefied with poison. In 1945 the United Nations fed the world's cattle with tea, and every obnoxious bovine gas ejection since has made the atmosphere more and more mind altering. Now,  I am beginning to understand things.

We have reached another set of doors. Opened automatically, that's handy. 

I am laughing hysterically. I can't help it. 

I feel wonderful Boris. Should we hop and skip the rest of the way?

Come on, Boris. Can't you feel it? What's wrong?

 Why are you talking in that voice? I can't decipher the  language. 

Who is that man in the white coat standing over there, Boris?

I really need to poo.

 I think the overdose of happiness is having an effect on my bowels.  Is this reality for humans? Are we naturally supposed to feel like this? Has the poisoned cattle gas suppressed our true behaviour? Was pre-1945 society just a collection of overly joyful people who constantly defecated in their pants all day? 

Boris tells me the pre-war economies were dominated by launderette corporations and adult nappy companies.

Too many questions flood my mind. I need to focus on something else or I will go mad.

What are those plants on the wall? This is some kind of artificial forest that has been grown. 

This can not be possible! No! No! No! . 

 Camellia Sinensis! Builders Brew! Calamitous cuppas!

 Boris! What on earth is going on here? In all that is holy! Boris talk to me! 

I can't recognise him at all now. He has morphed into some pudgy little man. 

The white coated fellow speaks softly. He tells me I should have stayed in my job. He tells me I should have stuck to the beeps. 

Tetley Terror and PG Prat! 

The two enemies of the free world. This whole time my best friend was one of them! What a fool I have been!! 

Well I wont let them get away with it. The buck stops here. My sacrifice will end the suffering of millions. I will find my fame after all. I won't live to experience it, but I will find it. I will amount to more than a value meal! Now is the winter of our discontent.

 I'll take his air away. That will stop him.  

Once more unto the breach dear friends! Once more!

Tough one, this Tetley Terror, Struggling like a demented loon.

I say! Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end!

Stop it Prat! Let go of my arm! 

A horse! a horse! My kingdom for a horse! 

Yeah have that you tea sucking little git! Right in his smacker. 

This struggle is epic. But I got him alright. Tetley Terror is Choking like the evil flabbergaster he is.

***

Tetley Terror is dead. 

Killed him with my bare hands. PG Prat didn't fare much better. Doubt he will be able to walk again. The little shit.

Ah another surge in my head. The struggle has contaminated me further.  

The walls! They are moving and melting.

The colours returning. The darkness that scares my marrow behind them. 

This is the end, but I will have my fame. I am a member of the supermarkets best range.