The Meaning of Life

In the bleak days

of 1983,

as England languished in the doldrums

of a ruinous monetarist policy,

the good, loyal men of the

Permanent Assurance Company,

a once-proud family firm

recently fallen on hard times,

strained under the yoke of their

oppressive new corporate management.

Terrible.

Really terrible.

Row!

That's it, Evans.

You're fired.

You heard me. Out.

Did you hear that?

He's been sacked.

Sacked?

Sacked? Come on, boys.

Let's get at 'em.

Hey!

Come on! Come on!

Let me out of here!

I demand

to see my lawyer!

Tooley! Come on.

Quiet! Silence!

Now, lads, let's move.

You, you and you,

break open the weapons.

You, you and you,

into the rigging.

And you, put the kettle on.

Aye, sir.

There, there, Charles.

Sorry!

Come on, Tooley.

This way!

Weigh the anchor!

Weigh the anchor.

And so, The Crimson Permanent Assurance

was launched upon the high

seas of international finance.

Come on, boy.

Watch it. Route. Route!

Cup of tea, dear?

Hey, Captain!

Look! To starboard!

There it lay,

the prize they sought.

Hard to starboard!

A financial district swollen with

multinationals, conglomerates,

and fat, bloated

merchant banks.

All right, lads,

battle stations!

Come on! Move it! Move it! Move it!

All right, then. That's

enough. Take cover.

Down, down! Get down!

Down, down.

Hard to starboard!

Fire!

Eric! My balance sheets!

Ross! Get the readouts!

Stop him!

Eric!

Thanks!

Charge!

Come on! Grab it!

No, no! Let me! Let me!

Okay, Kane.

Cudgelled!

Gotcha!

You bastard!

Take this.

Here. File this.

Shit!

And so, heartened

by their initial success,

the desperate and reasonably violent

men of The Permanent Assurance

battled on until,

as the sun set

slowly in the west,

the outstanding returns on

their bold business venture

became apparent.

Once-proud financial giants

lay in ruins,

their assets stripped,

their policies in tatters.

Full speed ahead,

Mr. Cohen!

Up, up, up your premium

Up, up, up your premium

Scribble away

And balance the books

Scribble away

But balance the books

It's fun to charter

an accountant

And sail the wide

accountancy

To find,

explore the funds offshore

And skirt the shoals

of bankruptcy

It can be manly in insurance

We"ll up your premium

semiannually

It's all tax-deductible

We"re fairly incorruptible

Sailing on

the wide accountancy

Sail away...

And so, they sailed off

into the ledgers of history,

one by one, the financial

capitals of the world

crumbling under the might

of their business acumen.

Or so it would have been,

if certain modern theories

concerning the shape of the world

had not proved

to be disastrously wrong.

Morning.

Morning.

Morning.

Morning.

Morning.

What's new?

Not much.

Morning!

Good morning! Morning!

Morning!

Morning!

Frank was just asking

what's new. Was he?

Yes.

Hey, look.

Howard's being eaten.

Is he?

Makes you think, doesn't it? H mm.

I mean, what's it all about?

Beats me.

Why are we here

What's life all about

Is God really real

Or is there some doubt

Well, tonight

we"re going to sort it all out

For tonight

it's The Meaning of Life

What"s the point

of all this hoax

Is it the chicken

and the egg time

Are we just yolks

Or perhaps we're just one

of God's little jokes

Well, a, c'est

le meaning of life

Is life just a game

Where we make up the rules

While we"re searching

for something to say

Or are we just

simply spiraling coils

Of self-replicating DNA

Nay, nay, nay, nay, nay, nay

Nay, nay, nay, nay

What is life

What is our fate

Is there heaven and hell

Do we reincarnate

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