So I finished reading the Guardians. Why on earth does Rob not choose to become an evil guardian puppet master? For one thing, he would have been a much more useful revolutionary if that was his thing, and he would have been able eat the nice cheese as well. Instead off he goes, under the damn fence, back to the noisy world of processed food. Oh the evils of the guardians, insisting on more than half of the population eating processed food. Have they not heard of Jamie Oliver? Oh waily waily waily*.
Heavens to murgatroyd, young people and writers for young people are so damnably uncompromising. And humourless apparently. I'd forgotten how humourless that whole post-apocalyptic genre can be. Does no one fall down on banana skins in the bleak future of England?
*Yes, last week I read of The Wintersmith. Lots of waily waily waily. It's given me something to say when the Noodle is feeling uncooperative. It annoys him very much, especially when it makes him laugh instead of sulking.