You’ve been dormant until now, Helmut. You’ve been hibernating until now. Errupt, Helmut! Become the Heideggerian volcano! Drown us in Heideggerian lava!


What’s the Heideggerian life cycle, Helmut? Is it like in Alien – do you lay weird eggs? Do they hatch into the equivalent of, like, Heideggerian facehuggers? Do they disappear down your throat? Do they grow inside you, and burst out of your stomach? Is this all part of some devious plan to take over the world.


Is there a great mating cry of the Heideggerian, Helmut? Is it like Spock – only once every seven years? Will you unleash a great cry, hoping there might be another Heideggerian in the vicinity? Which is unlikely, since we’re in Newcastle! In the UK!

Ah, the lonely Heideggerian. There should be a song about that.


Jotting down your Heideggerian thoughts in your own Black Notebooks. What’s in your notebooks, Helmut – racist thoughts? Fascist thoughts? Are you writing the Little Book of Persecuting Jews?


You seem a lot happier, Helmut. You’re positively blooming in your Heideggerian skin. I guess you’re just busy being the best Heideggerian you can be.