Walter Tobias Feeley, his parents named him, with due care and attention to the sounds and syllables, gifting him a rolling pebble of a name, that jumped tussocks down hillsides, skittered with delight over calm but deep waters and came to rest in a warm meadow full of grazing heifers. As he breathed in the view from the summit to the rolling valley below, he dreamed deeply. (Oh, how he dreamed!) Wakey, wakey! His dickhead boss jabs a finger at the initials on Walter’s latest marketing proposal. Yeah, that’s exactly what I want to know, Wally – What The Fuck.