We're having poached eggs on toast. Dave's smeared Bovril.org on his toast. The eggs are pretty runny so all's good. Pouring weak tea onto half a mug of milk, we proceed. Salt everywhere; granulated table. Marjorie's just saying about that Romanian fourteen year-old who was found out to not be a beggar at all. Just then, Laozi bursts in and slices Marjorie's head off in such a way that none of us are bloodied. Surprisingly, he's wearing a cowboy costume. He starts lecturing us on table manners when Dave coughs. "Cough one more time, mother fucker, I dare you, I double dare you!" says Laozi. He seems to have got Jamie Foxx and Samuel L Jackson mixed up somewhere along the line. Neither me nor Dave feel like pointing out his mistake. Eventually he leaves and we're left to contemplate what was actually an overly long lecture. He said something about poaching the water and being poached by the air. We shrug it off, agreeing that marauding acronymisms are the last thing we need, especially when they can't be bothered to learn about our culture.