The elevator doors shudder open to reveal the TV reporter. He’s dressed in a striped black and white T-shirt. Long straight hair drapes his face. He's lit in a lurid green, the sort of colour you’d get if someone threw up on the key light after a three-day binge on capsicum and fish tank scum.
The TV reporter lurches into and out of the camera like a goldfish on a bungee cord. And he’s saying things. Lots of things: “It’s a pleasure to be here. To body swerve freshly vomited. Ratburgers.”