No one would have believed, in the last femtoseconds of the third term, that the Stock Market was being watched from a yacht in Portsmouth harbour.

No one could have dreamed that Joanne Whalley-Kilmer would run for President of Bolivia.

Few cat lovers even considered the necessity of spontaneously combusting.

And yet, across the Gulfs of Madras, minds immeasurably stranger than ours, regarded their navels with envious eyes.

And slowly and surely, they contracted foot and mouth disease.

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