"Don't talk to me about Budgets" stormed Red Simples, and revved up his 'fuck off' yacht and fucked off. The ocean was liquid currency to him, full of golden whales with ruby vaults inside. Red headed for the mermaid colony which doubled as a tax and sex haven. Red was bored with money, he'd help to rob the world of all it had and his toys no longer satisfied him. Red decided to give away his yacht and tour the world in a bulldozer, sleeping rough in penniless boarding houses with privatised chimneys. His world had changed beyond all expectations and he began to sing a new song...his pockets were empty but his soul was stirring...to put it simply…
Text by Trev Teasdel
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