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It’s been bothering me for a while, but I cannot find anyone else who seems to be bothered by this as much as I am. I've watched the episodes a few times and have some theories. I was just wondering what other people thought about it. I mean most people think it’s just some random

Sheltering preachers licking the dust,

I cannot find anyone

Feverish theories are scrolling.

Salad black empty and gathering hiss

But I cannot find anyone else

The bargain bin shadows are scraping.

Quaintly adopting the whine and the whimsy, beloved archives, so unadventurously plundered with finger friend stitching, regressively aping with barely concealed plagiarism shivering seams, the way that formulas slowly creep to the underside of an art, closing in on the right buttons to press.

Enough analogue tombs suggest spirit in plastic naivety, new found ghosts in nostalgia-bleached tape. The pleasant snowstorm. A generation with screens no longer in frames can find romance in the word ‘computer’. Phonograph scratch and broken music box sugar, a rude resurrection sampling irony, tiresome lullaby festering from yesterday’s tomorrow. We arrive to exalt in the comparative flesh of old technology. These are cumbersome reels and moving parts; sounds that exhale their own delicious warble of decay. This pathetic scrapheap reimagined as an organic archive, remembered and re-animated for those who consecrate keyboards and inhabit a self-chosen twilight. Of the agoraphobic and modern cave, the habitual anxiety of doing and being, of perpetual masturbation and learning to live beside your own company, watching yourself watching the way you just watch, of character building in cramping each character, of that sleepless pallor and wedged burial of headphones, of comments posted to anonymous infinity, copied and pasted and arranged, of that familiar viral clown, relatable tendrils of observational humour that maybe once were acceptable, but, like most ill conceived infants, grew to eclipse the promise of their first and timid gasp, spawning  replicas that insist and that rash and that rush and repeat and repeat and remain long after the moment was resigned to  en abyme. Many headed repose of exhausted irrelevance. But that’s how it works: every last and stillborn trace is left to circulate, burped convulsing long ago from a kettle long since lost, trudging and misting the fields of space. Always continuing, whirling and waiting for click or for chance to exhume irreverence eternal. When

Sheltering preachers are licking the dust,

Feverish theories are scrolling.

Salad black empty and gathering hiss

The bargain bin shadows are scraping

It’s been bothering me for a while, but I cannot find anyone else who seems to be bothered by this as much as I am. The "Great War." He also has an "old" friend with the names of ‘R’. Has developed a "strange dialect." Also in this episode there is a scene where he is talking to a toilet, and then suddenly starts defending himself saying "you've got the wrong bloke squire." he then flushes and says "wash those bad thoughts away..." This one is textbook. Too many agree that pinning badges into vacuous footnotes constitutes the same effect as the original text. In episode 7 he digs up his brother from his yard. All of it was digging up, a mass scrabbling of dirt and bones held in place of inspiration. They scold him for leaving the "Great War" without a nice suit. A nice dinner with his corpse. Grindingly ruminating on the debris of what came before and then, then mustering the audacity (so easy in isolation) to dribble out viscous rivulets. As he reburies him he cries about his brother having to return to the “Great War”, and asks that the "creator" return him unspoiled. In episode 8, he talks to his radio and hears an unpleasant transmission that he hopes doesn't have anything to do with him.

 Whatdoesitsaytoyoutoustometoanyoneisthatapossibilityimeanretainingyouroriginaloutlinewithsomuchsnowandshovelledstatictheselazyrootsdragshrunkenveinsdownsolow. He sits in his cupboard and cries.

These things I have picked in order to support my theory. It intrigues me. If I had to pick a persona: a child raised goes away and dies. He basks in the memory of stories before the final time. We all enjoyed learning about the language.