Clean all the sand you dirty little snail, the locusts are here - it's not a beautiful mind and you're not John Forbes Nash, it's a disgusting nightmare, you're John Forbes' Gash and you're forever trapped behind the glass, staring out at a room full of people you respect laughing directly into your stupid snail face. We are screaming downwards today as the margin closes in, and the only possible future position is snotty, weepy begging on your knees.