I began writing as a slavishly scatological attempt to escape from the rigours of the all night meat train. The bland and tyrannical consequence of which would have been endless dystopian years on the factory floor. Reeking of the poisoned mucous and bile injectors so selflessly paralysed and remotely ineffective as to be rendered virtually incapable of unique or individual thoughts. This was the only course of action left to take in order to avoid such a long and drawn out and mutilated death.