Someone has to ride herd on all the little bastards. That's my job.

[But he sounds a little less confident now. Just for a moment. And then he's back to normal. There's some noises in the background as he digs his Blackberry out of his pocket and tries to make it do.]

They're never gonna survive the election now. Fucking bad enough when I was there, but the head's off the bloody chicken now, and—fuck.

[Electronic chirping, none of which sounds very promising.]

Afterlife's got no mobile reception, does it? Of course not.