Last night Poppy and I were hanging out at Leftwing Idiot’s and while we were all in the living room deciding what to watch, my tics started berating yet another inanimate object in his flat.

The focus of their attention this time was a pile of four books under the sofa which are there to stop it sagging too much in the middle. My tics commiserated with them about their fate.

“Oh books – wasted ambition.”
“No one’s going to read you down there, books.”
“Books, do you feel like academic failures?”
“Books, you really might as well be a block of wood.”
“Books, he likes you for your muscles not your thoughts.”

Leftwing Idiot was unapologetic, ‘They’re doing a good job’ he said, ‘Stop bullying the books’ Poppy added in a chastening tone.

My tics paid little attention to either of them and continued to talk to the books about their limited career prospects instead.