Anyway, tomorrow is another day, as the great Alan Jones sang.

[Ash]

Ash is old, moth-eaten, threadbare and a bit smelly and ragged, I think. His indifference is therefore understandable. The rest of us, however, are simply too young to die; we've still so much to offer, to give.

It's all so terribly sad.

Blimey! So we must have met after all!