Below my Radioactive Hideaway

From my widely stacked plethora of experience I know full well how to keep people well away from my business. For one thing, you definitely don’t want to put about an air too infused with mystery. An evasive attitude will immediately convince others that you possess secrets worth knowing and they’ll start doing all they can in order to get their greasy mitts on them. The duller you are regarding your affairs the less people will want to know about them. Offer up as much stupefying boring detail as possible and they’ll soon stop asking questions.

But even that may not be enough to get them to butt out of your impending situation. They may see through your cunning ruse and realise that it’s all incredibly fascinating. Nothing you say will satisfy their insatiable curiosity and the only way to keep things sufficiently clandestine is to sneak away into the night. Never give anyone else the slightest chance of accidentally stumbling on your machinations whatever they might be.

So we come to the need for a hideaway. Something cosy yet butch so that no one could ever doubt your intrinsic hardiness (not that they’ll ever be permitted such a sight but it’s the principle of the matter). The most important thing is that even if people manage to find your home away from home they are deterred from staying. The flesh melting off their bones thanks to the awesome power of radiation.

Call me paranoid (how dare you!) but I have the sneaking suspicion that even that wouldn’t be quite enough to prevent folks from getting all up in my grill. Hence what you would find below my radioactive hideaway. I’m not saying that it’s definitely a dragon but it’s scaly, breaths fire, enjoys a leisurely flight on its days off and is very much in favour of the attention its kind is getting thanks to a certain HBO show.

Song choices courtesy of: Mumford and Sons, Imagine Dragons and Hudson Taylor


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