The whole world's going down the pan, he said. Oh zealous are the creatures past the ledge.

Yup, said Dagwood with a slow glum nod. Glub had been at The Oracle again. Being of a rather agreeable disposition, Dagwood tended to go along with these little bouts of ill humour. All scary stuff, to be sure.

I hear they're mobilising into groups.

They always did, said Dagwood thoughtlessly. An awful glare from his companion stopped him from going further.

I mean big groups, and small ones, come to think. Far too big and way too small I'm sure. Big groups hatching plans and breaking off to nasty little hidden horrid ones.

Are there any medium ones then Glub?

What! he barked. You made me lose my thread. Though not proven by the rudimentary medical facilities available at this time, Glub was thought by other fish to be afflicted by some sort of mild aphasia. Sure enough he could speak fluidly and a foreign onlooker would think him highly articulate, but if you got to know him just a little you'd soon realise this was not quite so.

Sorry Glub, The Oracle, go on.

The whole world's going down the pan, he said. Oh zealous are the creatures past the ledge.