Robot Boy goes in for faulty dump pipe, teeth are being ground into dust faster than margin future positions are being liquidated and we're wide-eyed all night with the halogens piercing into the deep recesses of our brains. Mainly a discussion on chemicals with a brief interlude on chomos.

Cast your net from bridge of opportunity into the nighttime of an endlessly ignorant future. If you listen through you'll get to hear a man nearly cry. Class warfare starts tonight.

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.

Returns are diminishing but aggression is at an all-time high. You can't burn bridges if you don't have enough gasoline - siphon the fuel from Nigel's Camry and slash his tyres to make it look like somebody broke into the underground car park during lunch.

Get out of stem cells, and shoot off some sperm cells - invest a Honda Civic into a lamp post and take the eternal drive.

It's all upside, Baby. From 250 to 320k in one week. Andrew Wolfe cannot lose. Mesoblast FOREVER.

Candlesticks go "wee".