“Yo Geoff-ski, what up?”
“Yo Ted-ski, I’m gonna lay it on you straight: Hackney’s finished. You and I both know that even with the projected influx over the next two years of a further eighteen-thou’ mid-range dropouts, the only thing that could save this place would be a goddamn miracle. And seeing as how we blew our last magic-lamp wish on those beautiful gilt-edged crack pipes-”
“-so worth it-”
“-no doubt Teddy boy, but it still leaves us up Shit Creek holding our noses with faeces-covered fingers trying not to get any in our mouths. And that’s not the kind of life I had planned for us.”
“Good analogy G-Man.”
“Much love.”
“So what’s the exit strat’?”
“We’re gonna tear this baby down!”
“Boo Yah!”
“I’ve fiscalised and mathematiculated literally all morning, and hey! Turns out we can make mucho prosciutto if we sell the land to some guys looking to build a Kaiju-Zoo.”
“For real? Godzilla and Mothra and Rodan?”
“I know! Psyched! The Japanese’ve had enough of these boys bum-rushing Monster Island security and slaughtering valuable cows, so they’re paying to ship them over here and start a petting zoo. You know the play: keep ‘em doped up, train ‘em to breakdance; piss-cake.”
“Sweet!”
“No doubt T-Bone. And if we can secure at least a Hundred G in kids from the outgoing units to use as a food source for the monsters, we’ll secure ourselves an extra 3 points!”
“You the man, G-Dog! Where do I sign?”
“Same as always Teddy Bear: right here on my face.”
