Chronic Ills

What's the matter? asked Le Bon David, seeing his friend doubled over in pain.

Those damned seats at the Bakehouse Theatre, groaned the VeloDrone. There was a crucial piece missing from mine.

Dear me, said Le Bon David. That must have detracted from the performance. What did you see?

The Chronic Ills of Robert Zimmerman AKA Bob Dylan - A Lie, said The VeloDrone.

Good heavens, what a title! said Le Bon David. And did you manage to enjoy it?

Let me just say that it was undoubtedly brilliant, replied The VeloDrone, and that I nevertheless failed to enjoy it. Would you like to hear my review?

Certainly, said Le Bon David.

The VeloDrone began to read:

This show, presented at the Bakehouse Theatre by the Tamarama Rock Surfers, was a sellout show in Sydney. An absurdo-surrealist rhythmic re-imagining of the life and weird times of folk-rock icon Bob Dylan, it's a not to be missed musical adventure full of legend, myth, bible, ghosts, Koran, chaos, watermelons, everything......

Tell me if I'm wrong, said Le Bon David, but haven't you lifted that directly from the program notes?

What if I have? said The VeloDrone crossly. I know nothing about Bob Dylan, or Robert Zimmerman. My seat was uncomfortable. Furthermore, I was distracted by the woman I was sitting next to. I believe she's been stalking me.

Stalking you! So you'd seen her before?

Yes. Remember me telling you about the Broadway Kiosk yesterday? Those three women?

The three generations? Yes I remember. You said one of them kept looking at you so you hid behind a newspaper. Was it her?

I think so.

Fear not my friend. I've heard it happens all the time in Adelaide.

Stalking?

No, no. Bumping into the same people repeatedly.