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Sir Boss: He has been freshly christened. Born twice. So ‘Father’ alone cannot suffice, when he has multiplied thusly, he is so befoulded, and covered in smudge.
Now we have Father and rather-more-than-Father.
How to describe this New Father, that walks in and is his own landscape?
Father and Loam? The Landlord and the Pub? Father Large Nappy of Chips? Father New and Alarming Gazebo?  Father Big Back Porch? Father Compost, Father Cowplop,  Father Away from Me would be preferable. No! For simplicity’s sake,  arise… Father Shit Mass! From now on we must call him Shitmass.

Narrator 2: Sir Boss raises his glass in the direction  of the newly dubbed Father Shitmass.

Narrator 1: His strategy being to undermine the nascent cult-leader with name-calling.

Sir Boss: What do you think, Truthcurator?

Truthcurator: Ha ha ha. Very good, Sir Boss. Shit tits! Ha ha ha.

Sir Boss: No! Father Shitmass - Father Shit Mass! Spread the joke! We must make him absurd! For God’s sake Truthcurator, you are as thick as a planet!

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