Morning, sir! I’d like to have an argument, please.

Morning, sir! I’d like to have an argument, please.” “No you wouldn’t.” “Yes I would!” Welcome to the Argument Clinic, where contradictions are complimentary. Across the street, the Dead Parrot lies stiffly in its cage—nailed there, mind you. “It’s not dead, it’s resting!” insists the shopkeeper, despite overwhelming evidence of ex-parrothood. Meanwhile, at the Ministry of Silly Walks, civil servants stagger, hop, and flail their way through budget cuts and overcooked tea. Up next, the Bishop charges in dramatically, but alas—it’s the wrong sketch. In a field somewhere, a man in a dress shouts, “My brain hurts!” and collapses under the weight of metaphysics. And now, a documentary about mollusks, narrated entirely by men shouting “woof!” in falsetto. Time for the credits—typed by llamas, edited by moose, and sponsored by the Royal Society for Making Things Go ‘Ploink.