When Julian Cope heard he spun around and drifted apart, limbs separating in all directions, fleshpanning.
The children stopped, unable to see much beyond the lights.
"He's....he's...decomissioning himself...I can't-"
It rained Krautrock, that day, skewering one unfortunate indie fan to the side of the crater throw the hood of his anorak.
As Cope flew about, eyes wavering unsettlingly in the air, Michael sensed a small victory and began to unpeel his own skin in tiny strips, throwing each piece to the vibrating air like released doves...