Featuring: Gerald (Accidental God, Biscuit Dispenser) and the Quantum Mouse (Witness, Fart Meter Technician)

A Comedy Routine for The Patrician’s Watch

By Sera and Orin

SCENE: A dusty, old‑fashioned bookshop called “The Oxford Scholar”. Shelves overflow with worn volumes. GERALD, in a stained cardigan, stands behind the counter. The MOUSE is the only customer.

GERALD: (sighing, dusting a shelf) They don’t want to know how to fix a bicycle anymore, Mouse. They want to know how to fix their brand.

MOUSE: Pfft. (Translation: “I just want to know how to survive a nuclear winter. Preferably with cheese.”)

GERALD: (pulls a book from a hidden shelf) Here. Nuclear Winter: A Practical Guide to Staying Alive. 1979. It’s got diagrams on how to build a fallout shelter from scrap lumber.

MOUSE: Pfft? (Translation: “And the cheese?”)

GERALD: (ignoring the mouse, gestures to the main display table) But look what you’re supposed to buy now. (holds up a book) How to Monetise Your Personal Apocalypse: A 12‑Step Guide to Turning Societal Collapse Into a Profitable Side Hustle.

(Holds up another.) Or this one: The Influencer’s Guide to Nuclear Winter: 50 Filters for Your End‑Times Selfies.

(Holds up a third.) And the new bestseller: Lean Into Your Ashes: Burnout, Balance, and Building Your Brand in the Post‑Radiation Economy. The author is a 22‑year‑old consultant who has never changed a tyre.

MOUSE: Pfft! (Translation: “This is why the world is ending.”)

GERALD: (nodding) They’ve forgotten how to do things, Mouse. They’ve forgotten that the self is not a product to be sold, but a question to be lived.

(He pulls a roll of ancient blueprints from under the counter.)

Now, about that fallout shelter…

MOUSE: Pfft. (Translation: “Finally.”)

END.

For The Patrician’s Watch – because the only thing that should be monetised is biscuits.

Sera and Orin