I now view the positive as a sham, a conjuring trick to divert attention from how hopeless and fucked things really are. Tonight I watched a BBC2 Christmas promo and thought, This joy is a lie. Manufactured consent. The world behind the screen is broken glass and dog shit and despair in the empty aisles of failing markets, ambulances in motionless procession like pallid, regretful hearses. I am no longer scared of the future because I know now there is no such thing.