He’d been drinking for most of the day, by this point; which wasn’t a regular habit at the time, though friends reported he had been a little stressed of late.  He wasn’t a violent man, as a rule. But even the gentlest souls have a breaking point. And so it was that one day, mere hours before being due to start broadcast on another episode of American Bandstand, Clark was found several miles outside of town at a pig farm beating a large sow with Charlie O’Donnell’s mailbox.

Why he had been at Charlie’s house earlier that day, doing what he did, is a mystery that never did get resolved. He and Charlie were pretty good friends, after all, so for him to show up at Charlie’s house with a rucksack full of enamel paints & proceed to adorn Charlie’s front fence with obscene imagery and then let the air out of all the tyres of his car before attacking & then making off with his mailbox is really quite inexplicable behaviour, but really that’s another story entirely.

Now, lucky for the sow, Charlie O’Donnell’s mailbox was not really well-designed as far as improvised clubs go, so Dick wasn’t really managing to inflict that much damage. Nevertheless, it took 3 farmhands to take him down that day and another fifth of bourbon on top of what he’d already had to quieten him down once more. He missed his broadcast that day, but after writing letters of apology to all concerned and making financial reparations where appropriate, the matter was allowed to fall and was never spoken of again.

The pilot episode is set in a Prison, in which Policey McDoctorface is serving out a sentence. He’s made mistakes in his past, but he’s essentially good at heart and just wants to do what’s right by the people around him. The episode focuses on his attempts to play matchmaker for his fellow inmates, whilst putting together a solid case for his upcoming parole hearing. He finds a solution for a sticky love triangle between the Warden, a Guard and the leader of the Neo-Nazi inmate gang that satisfies all involved, and the episode ends with his parole hearing having a successful conclusion. His upbeat attitude to all the problems faced over the course of the episode endear the audience to him, ensuring a solid fanbase for the series.

The series itself then deals with Policey McDoctorface’s attempts to adhere to his parole responsibilities whilst faced with the temptations constantly assailing him from the former acquaintances who led him astray in his past. All the while, he is trying to resume his working life of criminal investigation at both Federal and Local Precinct level whilst practising Medicine and courtroom legal proceedings, and trying to straighten out his tangled, sometimes harrowing, lovelife.

A guaranteed smash hit that will appeal to a broad audience, with solid potential for at least seven to eight 26-episode seasons.

It’s a quiet, leafy, residential street. There’s a school on that street, behind almost every door a large family of Orthodox Jews live their quiet, respectful, happy lives in a peaceful new land. It is a beautiful street.

But after sun-down, the shadows lengthen. The trees block the light from the woefully insufficient streetlamps. It is pitch dark. I don’t like walking down that street after dark. There are Ninjas there, hiding behind the rubbish bins and on the verandahs. I haven’t seen them (theyr’re ninjas), but I know they are there, watching me. It is only the aura of sheer Awesomeness that surrounds me, preventing them from detecting any opening, that stops them from striking. But one day, they will strike anyway, and that moment could come at any time! I always walk in fear, down that street.

But this got me thinking. Why am I a target for Ninjas? I’ve never done them wrong. I’ve never publicly defamed or slandered them, nor have I damaged or stolen any of their property. I wouldn’t! Yet I, like most any other man you know, live in perpetual fear of Ninja attack. Why do they hate us so much?

And then I realised. Its not Hatred they feel. Its Jealousy. Jealousy at what they have lost, yet the rest of us retain. Which is, simply, joy in the little things. We take pleasure in simple things that bear no relevance to our survival, like cake. Or tacos. The rigorous Ninjutsu training that Ninjas are subjected to erases that simple response to nice things.

You see, when a Ninja eats a taco, he feels no joy or appreciation for this fine Mexican cuisine – regardless of whether it is authentic restaurant-made or Old El Paso make-at-home kit. He feels no pleasure at the taste of salsa. He feels only Readiness, and an awareness of all threats in his surroundings. But then he looks around. He sees us, with chilli con carne dribbling down our chins, rapture in our eyes. And then he feels the Emptiness inside him. And that just hurts.

So that is why none of us are safe, friends. Enjoy each taco you eat. Enjoy it to its fullest extent.

It may well be the last taco you eat.