Suppose I declare that “KEANU REEVES interferes with elephants.”. Can I claim that I was not libelling the wooden Hollywood actor, purely because I spelt his name in all-caps? Can I claim to a judge that KEANU REEVES was a undeclared identifier and therefore the entire statement was semantically meaningless? Of course not.

Sadly, a tediously long (and dated) piece on online library catalogues, and an 150-page essay on the word ‘lumber’ broom out the reader with staggeringly dull pedantry.

Based on the GEICO Cavemen advertisements made for the American vehicle insurance company GEICO, which were also written by Lawson, the show was described by the network as a “unique buddy comedy that offers a clever twist on stereotypes and turns race relations on its head”.

The Circus Tresaulti is, if anything, even more overtly magical than the Cirque des Rêves—its performers have been endowed by their ringmaster, a woman known only as Boss, with supernatural strength and longevity by the simple means of having been transformed into steampunk cyborgs, their bones replaced with copper pipes.

Fripp gave “Atlantic Records” as an example of old world politics and “pure communism" as an example of the new world. “Hammond organs and batteries of synthesizers” are examples of old world instruments and “bamboo flutes” are new world instruments.

But if there’s one noise that is dangerously close to tipping over from unexplained to unexplainable, it’s the Bloop.

“Happy Thanksgiving” is only one of several ass-centric combat moves in Tattoo Assassins.

And he addresses his staff using an internal video channel called KarpTube, speaking on wide-ranging subjects like greed, integrity and Marxism. “The only time I’m not thinking about Palantir,” he says, “is when I’m swimming, practicing Qigong or during sexual activity.”