"It's Survival of the Richest," he said, flopping down onto the sofa and activating the app on his phone. The screen unravelled on the wall in front of him and speakers emerged from the walls. The familiar soundtrack of the opening credits of the programme filled the room.
Amy sighed. She hated reality television in general and Survival of the Richest in particularly.
"If it was up to me," she had said to Gary a few weeks ago. "If it was up to me, none of the bastards would survive."
Gary shrugged. He liked to watch the sleezy bastards try and make their food last for a week.
"Look at him," he'd laugh. "Stupid fat bastard."
The rich (or those who had been rich before the revolution) were sometimes indignant, sometimes angry, and sometimes snivelly.
"I like it best when they cry," Gary said. "I'd like them to see how life was for my sister when the landlord kicked her out into the street, when she was eight months pregnant."
...
