The newscaster with the deep, reassuring voice says, ‘It now appears that sometime yesterday morning, the Soviet Union exploded a thermonuclear device some two and a half miles over the Arctic Sea island of Novaya Zemlya,’ and the man sitting on the mustard-coloured couch, crystal tumbler of Canadian Club in one hand and an RCA Wireless Wizard in the other, decides unequivocally that the truest words ever scribbled on a page were ‘All the world’s a stage’, because none of this bullshit is real.
