We sit there, chatting aimlessly, talking of this and that. That new politician, they’re a real clincher. They won by three nil, fancy that. It was tight towards the end. That dress, does purple really suit. There’s a party this weekend. Beach tomorrow anyone? All these things, trifles really, no matter how important they are. Minds pass over and then leave as dessert is served. Tea and coffee will come. Decaf? There’s that new honey brand, only the best here. No less trivial than before. Each time a new start begins it is treated the same, nothing important, just for conversations sake. Cups empty, spoons clatter. Did you hear of those people? The bushwalkers. Got lost in the bush. Been drinking too much. Not serious bushwalkers, really. Who brings more than a beer on a bushwalk? Darn stupid really. Maybe not right in the head? Didn’t say that on the news. News lies. No more than stupid buggers, got ‘emselves killed. Too right. Really, probably better they skinted, who knows what people like that could do to our society. Just trifles, trivial things. Plates sitting in the sink. Still talking. Hasn’t passed from the trivial. Those bushwalkers. Wonder what they were thinking. Maybe wanted done for it. Drank themselves down. Not smart enough to think of that. Stupid them. Not fit for society. Not for us certainly. Oh boys. Stupid. Unfit. Dumb. Challenged. Stupid. Don’t you realise there’s people mourning for those men?