. . . At such a point we found out for certain,
that this judgemental host with a tremendous ego wearing a ridiculous suit was the Taskmaster; and
that Alex Horn, recently aired on this show, his attempt at reclaiming his dignity did not work and fell flat; and
that Alice, Tim, Asim, Russell, and Liza, amateur comedians of the
program, were helpless to his cause; and
that the unforgiving audience beyond the stage, punctuated with laughter, with scattered applause celebrating it, was the joke; and
that the funny fictional farces, was the life of comedy; and
that the prolonged diminishing accusations from which the skit was following, was the writer Alex Horn; and
that the subordinate disgrace of remorse embarassed of it all and beginning to cry, was Alex Horn.
An evil villain, all in black leather,
with a tall collar around his neck.
with no home, and
with a lost friend, and
with an old heart tied tight in his chest.
A villain who had fallen into the ocean, and
smothered in seaweed, and
chilled to the bone, and
hungry from travel, and
missing his home, and
his old world;
felt left out, and
felt oppressed, and
resolved to revenge and
react to his pain; and
whose laughter rang in my head as he grasped me by the collar.