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Jeremy Handlebars loved Sarah Jane Thomson |
| [00:23.73] |
Sarah Jane Thomson loved Jeremy Handlebars |
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They were going to be married |
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And they were going to spend the rest of their lives together |
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And be very very happy |
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And that as Jeremy Handlebars so often said was that |
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Sarah giggled |
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It wasn't quite the proposal she'd imagined |
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But that was Jeremy all over once he'd made his mind up |
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He was just so decisive she thought |
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And she wished that she could be like that to |
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Jeremy said that it was destiny that had brought them together |
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And that no one not even he could defy the will of God |
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So there was no use in either of them fighting it |
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Or even pretending to |
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It was more a case of ironing out the practical details |
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And making sure everything ran smoothly on the day |
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I mean there was the question of the cake |
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And the flowers of course |
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And then who to invite |
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And then who not to invite |
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I mean where did you draw the line with a thing like this |
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Sarah smiled as she stopped listening and drifted off |
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It was true she could still remember that first day they'd met |
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As vividly as if it was now |
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And her attention swung back to five years ago |
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And that car boot sale in Norwich |
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When she thought of how she might nearly not have gone |
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She shuddered |
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Sarah's parents lived quite near Norwich |
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And on the weekend in question |
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She had gone back there on a sort of a visit |
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Her mum had phoned her up in one of her hysterical states |
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Between the sobbing Sarah learnt that Dad had started drinking whiskeys in the morning again |
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This time he'd threatened Miss Hand me down lightly the Lollypop Lady |
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By sticking a shotgun in her throat |
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And calling her a 'Handmaiden of the devil' |
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Before unloading into the air and falling down unconscious |
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It was just another incident in a long line of them |
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But Sarah's mum went through stages where she just could not cope anymore |
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And then Sarah would have to go back there for a while |
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S**t she thought |
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And got on the next train home |
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She knew there was nothing anyone could do about Dad |
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But she felt sorry for her Mum |
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And liked to tell herself that she loved her |
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And anyway there was no point in changing the rules of the game this late in the second half |
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It was the usual carry on when she arrived |
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Her mother cried and cried |
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While Sarah cooked food for her father |
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Which he threw against the walls |
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Then at about seven thirty each evening |
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And always a little worse for it |
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He'd go outside and sit in his car |
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Wind the window up |
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Shout the word Slags |
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Over and over again |
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As loud as he could |
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'Til he fell down into a drunken sleep |
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Then they'd carry him inside |
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And put him to bed |
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It was these screams of her father |
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That accompanied Sarah upon the walks she took |
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After she'd sneaked out of the house |
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And strolled along the B1172 |
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As it meanders its way into Norwich |
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Absentmindedly she happened upon the car boot sale |
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And really didn't know why or what she was doing there |
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Until she saw it |
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And then everything went clear |
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The gun cost seventy five quid |
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And after a moment's dilemma followed by some mental calculations |
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She decided seventy five was well worth it to blow that bastard's brains out |
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With glazed eyes and to be quite honest looking like a bit of a nutter |
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She stretched out her hand with the intention of making the gun hers |
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Now at that exact moment a truly rare occurrence in this universe |
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As it really was that exact moment |
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Somebody else she hadn't noticed and who hadn't noticed her |
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Stretched out his hand to take the very very same gun |
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It was Jeremy |
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The gun her hand and his hand all made contact at the exact same instant |
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Eyes and barrels all meeting simultaneously |
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Giving rise to what can only be described as something like a sort of true human communication |
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A real one off that allowed understanding to flood through and from and into each other |
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All Sarah's murder impulse was exactly and oppositely reconverted into a passionate desire |
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Meant with a deep felt admiration respect and love for this stranger |
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Jeremy said he felt the same |
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So they went for expresso's at Caldidge which is so convenient when it's just round the corner |
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They laughed as their stories unravelled |
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Especially when Jeremy revealed coincidentally |
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That he was there looking for a gun to empty all over his Mum |
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And she drank too |
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And when he'd been away on a two week Communications Course which work had sent him on |
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She had forgotten to feed his fish |
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And he's returned to find them sunny side down and motionless mid tank |
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He'd loved them fish |
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And he believed that they knew and loved him too |
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They were in fact unbeknownst to his mum |
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His closest and most treasured companions |
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He told how he sat frozen for a week after he found them |
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And how his only contact reality |
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Had become the sound of the distant tinkling of smashing glasses |
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Mixed in with the cackling laughter of his mother |
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As she entertained the local drunks upstairs |
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And the stench of ghost haddock |
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Which seemed to permeate the entire accommodation block |
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He told how he'd remained in this trance |
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The gun theory slowly revealed itself to him |
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And as it cleared he woke to find himself driving through the outskirts of Norwich |
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As he later went on to explain to Sarah he had never been to Norwich and it held no fascination for him whatsoever |
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In this sense at least he seemed a normal and sane man Sarah reasoned |
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And indeed in many ways we may assume that he was |
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They of course bought the gun as a token of their love |
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Jeremy paid for it like proper men do |
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That was five years ago now |
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And Sarah sighed as she returned to what she understood to be the present time |
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Their wedding came and went in relative safety |
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It was not interesting |
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In fact the next significant event to occur in their lives |
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Was some five years later |
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With some understanding this intermediate period is necessary |
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For fuller understanding of what was to follow |
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Jeremy and Sarah melted |
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They abandoned their own identities and grew into each other |
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As time dragged on their branches became so complicatedly intertwined |
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That it was impossible to tell from which person they had originated |
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They choked the individuality of each other in a frenzy that only the terror of loneliness will allow |
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Now neither knew the other or themselves |
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But clung to feigned personalities |
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They believed the other required of them |
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Their truly sickening and spineless existence |
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Based upon complete reliance upon one another |
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But at least they were not lonely |
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And respite did occur in the form of hobbies |
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Which they pretended to share and enjoy |
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But in fact did not |
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The irritation they so often felt for one another |
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They denied |
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But it would surface occasionally in sporadic eruptions of screaming and violence |
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Usually directed at the useless artefacts society offered them as distractions from each other |
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The TV the microwave and the dish washer |
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Sat as cold and silent witnesses to their futility |
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But they did have their uses |
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As the time spent working to get them |
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Would have been time they'd have to have spent with each other |
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In other words and put much more simply than this |
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They became what is commonly known as a right couple |
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The next significant event then |
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Was some five years after they'd tied the knot |
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Jeremy was at work doing his job at fishy Business Aquariums |
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Where he looked after the fish |
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And Sarah was at home rearranging their possessions |
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She never did seem to be able to get it quite right |
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She sat down and sighed absent mindedly |
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Picked up and toyed with the gun which had brought them together |
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Ten years ago that day |
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Which was kept pride of place on their mantelpiece |
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And which Jeremy insisted on being kept loaded |
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When it just went off |
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The bullet went straight through her |
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Where her liver was |
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Blood and bile and pancreatic juice |
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Splattered against the wall behind her |
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The three different fluids started dripping down the wall |
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And it looked like some weird kind of a race |
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And when one drop mixed in with another they would hurry each other along |
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On the descent to the floor |
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Or when one drop strayed into the path another one had already taken |
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That would speed it along too |
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And when the dripping stopped |
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And it dried up |
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It looked good |
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When Jeremy arrived home to find his beloved floating mid tank as it were |
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Something snapped inside him |
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Maybe it could have been something to do with electricity |
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Or maybe not |
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But anyway his brain his brain just shut off |
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And he stood there for about an hour completely motionless |
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And then when he started moving again |
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He was talking as if nothing had happened |
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He playfully scolded her as one scolds a small child for the mess she'd made on the wall |
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And then he cleared it up with a new kind of liquid |
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Which did do the job really well |
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And as he did so he carried on talking normally to her |
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The fact Sarah had never been much of a talker and tended to drift off |
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Was an enormous help in maintaining his delusion |
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He also found that as he dragged the corpse from room to room with him |
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It was best if he heightened his conversation to an excited jabbering |
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And unloaded all the banalities and problems he'd encountered at work |
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Or just talked anxiously about his money worries |
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Either way it really helped |
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The fact that their coupledom had made them extremely uncomfortable in front of other people |
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Due to the absurdity of their false roles |
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Had meant that visitors had not been welcome in the flat for many years |
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So that was 'no problemo' either |
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In fact Jeremy soon found this new state of affairs rather to his liking |
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Even when the body started to putrefy and fall apart |
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He lovingly transported the separate bits from room to room |
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And carefully reassembled them |
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Just the way he remembered her |
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He really didn't feel lonely at all |
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His favourite bits were her beautiful eyes |
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Which after they had become detached from the mother head |
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He kept in his pocket |
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And would affectionately fondle |
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Especially when he felt nervous |
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Or he was outside |
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And sometimes when the mood was right at night |
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He'd pick up an ear and place it to his mouth |
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And mumble secrets about love and desire |
| [09:42.03] |
And if he could find all the right bits |
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He'd lovingly carry them to his bed |
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Where he'd fall upon them and wriggle and moan |
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On these special occasions he'd take the eyes out of his pocket |
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And place them on the pillow |
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And as he lay there writhing on what was left of the body |
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Her eyes would stare frozen cold and emotionless at the ceiling |
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Jeremy Handlebars didn't feel lonely at all |