Dear Mr Narrator: It's good to hear you getting so upset, but......well, it's like you're Dorothy in THE WIZARD OF OZ. Only you have the power to stop the nightmare and restore sanity. All you need do is click your heels three times and say 'nigger'. Fast forward another ten or fifteen years: everything's on fire, ceiling plaster and support beams crashing to the ground like cement rain, the streets littered with the raped and the raped-till-they-finally-died. Our narrator is perfectly silent; naturally, as 10 or 12 hours in a cannibal cookpot will almost certainly ensure death. Let alone 10 or 12 weeks. Shoulda worked up the stones to say That Terrible Word there, Poindexter!