(quietus praejudicium forma)

The sleeping vandal is the last saviour of the dump world.

When you have failed to produce anything worthy of note – or even anything identifiable, the sleeping vandal may yet come to your rescue.

A seemingly innocuous little tinker, the sleeping vandal lays quietly in the watery u-bend of truth proving no cause for concern. He’s too small to Nirvana, any amount of assistance will bear no fruit. He is neither pan-filling, nor capable of supporting a pole.

You almost exit the trap upon flushing, but, wait…. the turmultuous washing and torrential spinning of the exiting disappointment whirls hellishly, boistrously…. anarchistically.

Look at the state of that! The walls are plastered. A brief feeling of violation flashes through your mind, which then gives way to a humoured respect. To the sleeping vandal – your last minute saviour.