When the Third Estate becomes globalised and threatens the existing zeitgeist, local nationalism and identity politics enter the foray. Reigning back our global commons via division and distraction, the digital dissonance which emanates from the circus of cacophony, reverberates deep into the rat runs weaving through the darknets. Even in these dark places, you find politicised pawns pontificating identity politics. The worlds they make are built from the fatty faeces deposited by their political preachers above. Point a shitty finger at yourself and smell your own filth, because we’re all shitting in exactly the same place. Inside our cubicles of paranoia, we worry about our privacy, encrypting our shit, whilst we leave our shitty fingerprints everywhere, and when we’re not encrypting our shit, we’re tugging on the block chain so we can get some scraps of fiat toilet paper to exchange for more fat and sugar. When we live amongst this filth our minds become sewers and shitty stuff becomes real, we begin to see terrorist turds and our fellow beings become coprophiliacs who want our shit, so we need to protect our sewage. We need sewage sages who can help us decipher all the shit and give us the keys to the securely wrapped golden nugget of turdscendental wisdom, so we can sit more securely with a smile on our face as we defecate all over our children’s dreams.