He spent weeks in a factory with only his thoughts bouncing around his head and started to sense that the amalgam of metal was slowly eyeing him up for an attack or a possession; that he would release his flesh and bones to it, leaving just a blob of consciousness which would then be sucked in by the metal and integrated into its dull character. It would take just a second and he'd be gone. This made him grip his elbow to hang on, his nails pierced the skin and locked into the wounds. And although he knew the moment would pass and he could dismiss it as being a little adventure of a tired and psychedelic imagination he sometimes thought he was glimpsing his own hibernating madness. Later he wrote to his MP urging him to lobby parliament to shut all the factories down. That didn't happen, and the last known sighting of him was outside a chicken factory in Harlow with a banner that had the words 'factories syphon out psyches.'