BIF introduces you to Half-Italian, Half-French, Half-Cut Post- Factualist and self-proclaimed 'Voice of the Millennium', YVES-GERMAIN POMPIDOU

We cannot read the future any more; it is a dark, shapeless thing of immense darkness and shapelessness, like a ghoul's rectum. Some say this is due to the decontextualisation of modern discourse, arbitrarily mediating past, present and future in the pursuit of the complete dissolution of certainty. Others claim it is the result of the continued naturalisation of the dominant ideology of patriarchal hegemony in a society where women are only tolerated because  
no-one else knows how to make meringues.

Some simply blame Nike. Being a post-techno, post-modernist, cybercard-carrying, lean, mean, vegan machine from Battersea, I would concur with all of the above, as would my French poodle, 'SeMiOtIx'. But just to disturb your sleep a little further, here's my own version of events, italicised for extra truth: we lost the ability to read the future the day we invented instant tea. Where once dirty old clairvoyants could swirl the dregs of humanity around in dirty old mugs, now they are forced to choke back some powdery abomination in the name of progress. And who first marketed theses grisly granules? NESTLE! The bastards!

But do not despair my good illiterate friends; do not weep for me, oh Europe! For stalking this temporal wasteland are a few, luminous, intellectual such as myself, dedicated to exposing the truth where before there was merely sense. As my dear old friend Roland Barthes once whispered to me as we post-modernised together in the grounds of the Sorbonne Polytechnic (as it was then) in Calais: "LES PIRATES! ILS VONT PRENDRE TOUTE MA MARCHANDISE!!" which, loosely translated, means: 'Never fuck an epileptic horse'.Excuse me while I go wash my arse out with soap and water.