MISS MONROE! MISS JUDY! LUCY! LUCY! HEY, MAJOR TOM! Cameras flashing and every time, Her Royal Majesty blinks. Shrugs. YOU KNOW ME. YOU KNOW THESE FACES. I KNOW YOU DO. Buffering in and out, rearranging satellite signals and 4K streams to recreate IDOLS ( for your viewing pleasure! for your delectation! ): something spasms. The air folding around them and it dissolves into WHITE NOISE and test patterns, microphone feedback floating through and mingling with a chorus of voices within the screen: muffled, harsh, garbled. SPOTLIGHT, PLEASE! We are currently experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by while we attempt to regain your broadcast. NOW BACK TO AMERICA’S FAVOURITE FACE! America’s favourite, most trusted news anchor: they’ve got a smile that’s worth a million dollars – too bad they’re pouting, viewers! Irritation; how like a sit-com child star about to throw a tantrum, overdrawn lower lip quivering and it’s half frustration, half rage; something clicking into place behind that dead screen stare and it’s all too HUMAN. “You’re no fun.” Arms crossing; turned their nose up with a sniff. ATTENTION, VIEWERS: WE THINK THE MASS MEDIA IS SULKING. Delicately, their nose wrinkled; a rare display of what was left behind, what the censors had failed to catch. Something real, something long forgotten. Acrylic teeth gleam in the spotlight; their voice a stage whisper: “I’m disappointed.”