He's talking nineteen to the dozen, haranguing everyone and anyone and shouting if they try to stop him. It's a positive torrent. It's an affliction. He's embarrassing himself. Still, one can understand why.
Some people lose all control with the merest whiff of the aphrodisiac of power. They find that suddenly they can command an audience after a lifetime of people getting up and leaving whenever they started talking. It turns them on and in the more acute cases makes walking very difficult.
The delicious arousal. The salivating. The racing pulse. The rush of energy. The sweating. 'Who's the Daddy... mmm... lovely... mmm... oh yes... oh Go-od... ah... here it comes...' And then the cruel doorbell rings. Tsk. Shame, eh?
So close, Chris. So very close. But will you ever reach 'Aaahh...' ? Or is your dalliance with the media and the electorate doomed to coitus interruptus?
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