BILLINGSGATE POST: Behind the smoke and mirrors lies the truth. Ephemeral as it is, as fleeting as it is, as Carnac as it is, the Truth shall set you free.
In a secret cave that only Google has the exact location, Clarence the Clairvoyant Cockroach, long the only one with the incredible mystic powers inherited from Mayan medicine man, Ujerkial, somehow fathomed the indiscernible that penetrated the semi-permeable membrane that once protected the brain of Monkey Woods; a man without portfolio, hereto the only one capable of divining what happened to Harry Maguire upon joining the Manchester United squad of misfits, bangers and maladroits.
He was, in other words, a light in the window; a harbinger of things to come.
“What is the secret, O’ Clarence that only you can divine?”
“The envelope, please.”
“The power of Harry lies in his unfathomable ability to juke Monkey Wood’s inner-self.”
Slim: “That’s remarkable!”
Dirty: “Yo, Dude. What does that mean in time and space?”