» the city network

[Given the fantastic angle staring up the stem of a half-full glass of wine accompanied by a fat green bottle with a pair of gangly, denim-clad legs only partially in view, it's very clear this was probably meant to be an audio post. Crowley is outside somewhere - likely the park or graveyard given what little scenery is in focus, and the reason for his mistake becomes more apparent when he speaks with an evident, wine-drunk slur.]

Right. Summer is infinitely better when there aren't dozens of insects trying to eat you alive at any given time. Point in favour to the city. Well done. No idea how you're going to get any of these plants pollinated but I'm assuming it's the same way you get all the food here. Magic, probably, or something like it.

Still, nothing like going out and it's just you, the sun, and nice bottle of Tempranillo and an afternoon basking. There's a nice flat boulder in the park; catches the morning sun brilliantly, lovely and warm, 10/10, if that's anyone's particular vice.

[A hand comes into view and lifts the glass out of frame. There's a pause, and when it's returned, it's nearly empty.]

Of course there are still a boatload of points not in favour of the city; no art. No music. No shows. No actual nightlife to speak of. Not even books or programs on the telly! All those tubs of icecream for the taking and no re-runs of the Golden Girls to eat them to. Terrible.

[There's a rapid series of clicks that sounds like he's fiddling with a ballpoint pen.]

Anyway, those of you familiar with old Billiam the Bard; got a question. Taming of the Shrew -- is it 'methinks the lady doth protest too much' orrrrr 'the lady doth protest too much, methinks'? Sss'been a while and I'm a bit too squiffy to remember properly right now.