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Transcript: In the quiet, windswept settlement of Mask-by-the-Sea, there lives a curious creature of habit. John Taylor, now in middle age and carrying the unmistakable signs of a life lived almost entirely seated. The male Taylor has developed a physique perfectly adapted for the avoidance of unnecessary exertion. Observe the rounded frame, the retreating hairline, the slow, economical movements, carefully designed to preserve energy wherever possible. For many years, John searched for an occupation suited to his particular gifts. Work involving lifting, urgency, or prolonged standing, proved to be a very important part of his life. He found deeply incompatible with his natural instincts. But then, quite unexpectedly, he discovered the modern double-decker bus. And here, at last, was a machine engineered entirely around his evolutionary strengths. A heavily cushioned seat, power steering, climate control, and hours upon hours of uninterrupted sitting. Perfect each morning, the Taylor emerges cautiously from his Mask-mesonet, clutching a brightly colored energy drink, and perhaps some sort of pastry wrapped in paper. There is little haste in his movements. There never has been. He climbs aboard his great mechanical beast with the calm assurance of a man who knows that for the next eight hours, physical effort will remain reassuringly minimal. And so, the migration begins. From red car, through mask, and occasionally, in particularly daring expeditions, as far as Whitby itself. There, the male Taylor may briefly gaze across the cold Yorkshire coastline, before instinctively returning to the familiar comfort of the driver's seat. It is here, amongst the rattling windows, the faint scent of diesel, and the gentle sighing of worn suspension, that John has found his true habitat. Safe, seated, and only very mildly, out of breath.

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