Ah ha, no one around! Good, I’ll have the work bench to myself.
The Plan: The edifice, literary, whence to storm the barricades of the known and unknown worlds:
Revolution in platonic relationships- robo’s virtual digi-Lego land; a reconstruct of masterful dexterity- a new and powerful literary ‘infra-structure’ the pollies will have to drool over! No, no, no, Yes…
Oh, yes, I will have an assistant- Boris Karloff’s grand-niece’s Lego doll, re-vamped!
‘My darling, extra-nubile, nano-tech plasticated, neo-cyborgised, bluish eyed living doll, you will be my assistant, the focus of my flirtatious advances and amorous yearnings and totally adroit courtship manoeuvres’ (of the Lego species of non-life, free from the reach of the Socialist Brigade Tribunal of Sexism Elimination in Post-Coital Human (hopefully adult) Society in the 21st century.)
When all else fails to satisfy, retreat to the primary defensive home- the garden shed and not the loo- whence to build the Lego world of one’s choice in the hope that the local cannibals will get sick on the toxic nano-tech additives to the identities-who look yummy in any case!
But, will this truly satisfy? Are you not better off with a real live human consort, even if she is a non-sexist feminist of -’The Brigade’? Surely your sexist needs, including the perusal of shapely human female legs, are more important than your instinct to build an edifice, with its phallic symbolism?
Well, no, no, no, yes. Yes, you are right. I will have a lovely assistant sitting next to me and rubbing my soon to be arthritic knees, and making nice cups of tea to fill my soon to be worn, incontinence pads- masculine incontinence pads, naturally. Oh, bliss town, my new edifice, hip, hip hoorah…
Christmas lunch - AIBU?
Questions about my finances - bad manners?
Other people using my toilet - do you let them?