Brian, surname, Crome, endured an entire schizoid half hour oscillating between the poignant and the frivolous – an emotional rollercoaster to the cliché lovers. Two poached eggs on toast made a breakfast but one of those squelchy pleasure broke; warm yellow liquid meandered through the pores of the toast. Brian was riveted. What was the meaning of this? Had a psychic egg in his inner hatchery had its shell fragmented by the torrents of 9-5 work hatred? He carved off one crust edge of the toast and used it as a dam to ebbs the flow of yellow. Yellow, Yellow? What did that mean? Were the daffodils the avenues of tree which lead up to the grand national trust mansion where, on a mild windy day, on the battlements he had lost his virginity to the a chubby tea maid from the dingy basement tea shop, somehow connected to all this? Yes, must be. The telephone rang, loud as a church bell. The landlord, the hilarious landlord, with his cruel side-parting and faux civilities, was kicking him right out onto the street, the street of Wilko, Poundland and Tesco express. That would mean …….and yet wasn’t it all so funny and wasn’t it all beside the point? The point was the egg had broken and that dam wouldn’t hold forever and once it crumbled what ripples would be felt in the inner waters? Would a certain new and terrifying…..you’ve got be careful, you see. Mrs Felderhoon from across the hallway, a fine and noble woman whose husband sang in the pentecostal church choir and who had one slightly pigeon-toed foot- which Brian found mesmerizing- knocked on the door. Disaster, she said. Frank, the husband, was hit by a steam roller. But is he alright? Quizzed, Brian. Certainly not, dear boy, they had to shovel him off the road’ and there she wept and moaned while Brian was casually wondering if those shovels would be washed and disinfected or just wiped clean by further use- one more scoop of the sand ought to do the trick- but horrors, what horrors, that egg would be dripping off the plate and likewise his own liquid grasp of reality streaming towards the abyss.