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He wakes up. He seems to have escaped a hangover. He does not escape  the need to go to work. He has shaved off his massive Whitman beard. He cashes a generous check. He eats some lunch. He wonders at the audacity of Tony Blair and thinks that he Tony Blair must think he is one of the good guys. Tony Blair and Bono and George Clooney all smiling and winning goodwill wherever they go saving people who need to be saved from themselves. It must be hard for Tony Blair to be such a hero. Then he learns that to stop him from going insane Khalid Sheikh Mohammed was given the opportunity to design a vacuum cleaner and to read the Harry Potter books. This is more insane, in many ways, than the 911 plot itself. He  wonders if the model of the vacuum cleaner that he designed was any good and if James Dyson is jealous and if perhaps Khalid Sheikh Mohammed got to make the prototype and then perhaps the equally bored decided to make an infomercial for the vacuum cleaner and that somewhere in the files of the CIA there is a poorly made infomercial starring CIA agents and Khalid Sheikh Mohammed struggling with some awful means of cleaning various parts of their houses before bursting into glorious technicolor and utilising the Mastermind (for that is what Khalid Sheikh Mohammed’s vacuum cleaner will be called in this imaginary scenario) to make their house the cleanest house that has ever been cleaned. He hopes that video exists even though most of the other rendered detainees have now been driven insane with the waterboarding and enhanced interrogation techniques and let’s just call them torture because  whether you think it was justified or not it seems disingenuous not to call it torture because simulating drowning day after day hour after hour week after week is surely a suitable candidate for the term torture whether you agree with it or not. Then he goes and buys some candy even though he was determined not to go and buy some candy and he misses his Marx beard. The he goes to pick up a carrot cake and a bottle of wine from a relative which is a delight and a pleasure and then he goes to get a free slurpy at the 711 because on this day every year in America 711 gives out free slurpies all day except that this particular 711 that he gets to is not doing it any more because it seems that all day since the store opened early in the morning children have been coming in and have totally gutted the slurpie machine so the owners of this particular 711 franchise ended the offer at precisely two minutes before he entered the 711 and turned off the machine and there is a very irate woman standing in front of the machine who really wants a free slurpy and could have got one near her job but no she travelled all the way here which is home to her to get one and she forces them to turn the machine back on so she can get a free slurpy because it is the principal of the thing and it is not her fault that children have been here all day gorging on slurpies of all the neon flavours and ruining these hard working franchise owners because some marketing goon in an office somewhere far from here thought it would be a good idea to give free slurpies at every 711 on each years 711. The London bombing anniversary was three days ago and he forgot it happened until now even though he was out and filming the next day and if he had gone in early to work would have been on the train. It is lucky that he is so disorganized and loves his bed so much. There is no looking back at that event now. Barely even remembered. He watches the end of Sharknado which is has  the best climax of a film starring a cast member of the original Beverley Hills 90201 that he has ever seen and this is no faint praise. Then he falls asleep listening to the storm warnings and the thunder and the thick relentless rain. He may be falling in love.

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