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Straight out of the serpent's tummy, like a ball bearing rolling down chopsticks towards a toy train. A slow-motion cascade of causality, Rubean and, dare I say, Goldbergesque in all its gimmicky contrivances.

What awaits you at the end of the chain of consequences is a self-realization whose relevance is nigh. A realization that life has decided you need a good shoving towards. And, surely indeed, one that almost everyone who knows you is already painfully aware of.

But that's okay. The road to self-realization is long. And it always starts humbly. And usually with a dollop or ten of soul-crushing awkwardness, perfectly made to taste.

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