Today is the day the pimple pops, the flower blooms and the reporters report. We get to visit the Hague and ask these moneylovers some real skadoodle. The truth will bare itself after only a few well-angled wonders of the brain. 
We arrived late and in a rush, partly caused by the liquor ingested yesternight, but mostly caused by inexperience. 
In the end the time of arrival is less important than the being of present. So we decided to not hang around and get to work. We tested the mic, we tested the camera and we tested the demonstrators. There isn’t much news to bring about these people. We knew both their views and their standpoints. A Frisian Stoic telling us truthfully he was the head of a school in the icey part of the north not known by us was the highlight of our day from a status lover's point of view in a status viewpoint. But the real highlight of the day was the adorable grandpa that covered himself in red. PvdA was the party he represented. The workers party of the Lowlands. 
Anyways, I came home, checked footage, the mic did not record, hit kittens, was fine again. Don’t know how much of this is a repo, or how much is a ramble. I hope it ends up decent. 

Yo, bye