Are you the Messiah? – Am I? The apocalypse is very close, we're agreed on that. The game's up … the game that pushed us around on its table like counters. What good were we? What good did we do? Did we ever take a stand? Did we ever insist on a single point of principle?
Our endless chatter. Our inanities and idiocies … Speech went one way and then another. I spoke to W., W. spoke to me, back and forth it went. We could always talk, grant us that. We were never entirely mesmerised by our own stupidity. But with what idiocy, with what stupidity! It was all a waste of time, a terrible waste. What was it ever going to come to? Where was it going to lead?
We ran our talents into the ground (but what talents did we have?) We wore our chances away (but did we ever have any chances?). We drove everyone away. Who was left but us? What were we left with but each other and our endless chatter?
Of course the Messiah would never wear a moldy jacket, W. says. Look at it, it's turned green. I point out I only bought it because of W.'s ceaseless complaints about my last jacket, my velvet one. – Your velvet jacket! It was shapeless and made you look obese, says W., whereas this one just makes you look cheap. Doesn't it bother you that your jacket's turned green and you've got stains down your trousers?
W. always carries a suit with him on our foreign visits. He doesn't want to insult our hosts, he says. I never had any concern about insulting our hosts, W. says, going on about blowholes and wearing one of my disgusting jackets. It's always been entirely up to him to make up for me, W. says. He brings respectability to our collaborations. And sartorial sense. What would I wear if I were the Messiah?, is always W.'s question to himself.
That's why he always carries two pairs of trousers, he says. For emergencies. What do I do to them, my trousers?, W. asks. Why are they always so stained? And why do they never sit properly on your waist? My trousers always sag, notes W. They're like a metaphor for my life. Could I be any less Messianic?
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