Wilde danders to the to the corner of the Streets.  Not seeing a single eye-catching man, he sighs, wondering why the Streets have been so dull and uninspiring since a few days ago.  He sashays onto a box and begins to speak.

Let us speak with candor, and understand that sometimes good grace is not appropriate.  

Friends, we are in trouble.  I look around at the Street speakers who have risen to prominence, and I am not filled with confidence.  I am going to, dispassionately and with all due respect, critique each of them.  Such is the low level of calibre of almost all of them, that they will call for my head rather than debate me on these Streets.

Let us begin.

Goldust - he has a creative edge, but a very thin skin.  He isn't but out for the rough and tumble of combative Street interaction (CSI).  If he reached out to someone, someone with leadership qualities, in the spirit of friendship, I'm sure that he would easily earn his place in the top 5.

Chalk - Whenever this guy speaks, I wonder how many people are wandering around a village looking for their lost idiot.  It's difficult to accurately critique what passes for work from this guy, because it is so mediocre.  It isn't offensive, except in volume, and he lacks any skill in CSI.  He's like a much, much worse Goldust, but, crucially, lacking the creative edge.  If Chalk didn't exist, nobody would really notice.  That does not bode well for his lasting legacy and impact.  Additionally, I have heard that he is quite an unpleasant person.

Sisyphus - A fantasist.  Let's give credit where it is due, however, at least he didn't theatrically weep into early retirement on account of dreadful cheesiness.  He is the best of the fantasists, and I think there is room for him on the Streets.  I don't want to say too much bad about him.  He's on a par with Goldust and at least forty seven times more talented that that baffled oaf Chalk

Zapata - At the moment, the leading and guiding light of the creative writing community and preeminent at CSI.  I understand that until a few days ago, he was a capable second, as someone else dominated the Streets, but, tragically, this person is no longer with us.  Zapata should hold the fort until his son returns.

Talia - No offence intended, but I hadn't heard of this person and can't really say much about their work.

@Charles_Barklay - He has some talent, with the right coaching, he could do well.

Lordian - Nice fellow, but to call him a one trick pony would be to do a disservice to those ponies out there perfecting their one trick.  He's a pony whose (many) tricks do not include speaking on the Streets.  No disrespect intended my friend.

Grin-07 - He's pretty good at the things that he does.  But I heard he has been a bit bereft since losing his best man, needlessly, fairly recently.

Connor_McManus - As far as I can see, there is no beginning to this guy's talents.  He's like a hybrid: half fantasist, half wanna be CSI burner.  But he manages to fuck both up and collapse in a whiney, teardrenched supernova of ineptness, spite and defiance.  Dealing with him is like dealing with a grown for whom aggressively pissing in his own pants is the ultimate retort.  Also, I don't understand why he's still alive after calling an entire city "asshats."  My ancestors, who were powerful leaders, not to mention peerlessly wealthy, simply wouldn't have stood for it.

Nipper - Definitely one of the top five best speakers in Chicago.

VoxNeruda - Now we are talking!  Easily the best so far, and unexpected winner, I've heard, of a recent competition.  The only criticism that I'd have of him is that he's a little too easily swayed by money - that can cloud a man's judgement.  I feel like I've met him, when I heard him speak, I could have sworn I'd heard the voice before, only perhaps a little more muffled.

<font color="#99CC99">To those I have just discussed, let this be a forum for your skills.  Don't call for my execution - for that would be confirmed what I have thought of you.  Instead, I challenge you, prove me wrong.</font>

Wilde. Firstly, I would like to thank you for your critique of my work. I won't be taking any of it on board, but nonetheless, the effort you must have put in to follow me around the streets must mean I have a big place in your heart.

Secondly, I maybe need to tell you that I don't come to these streets to look for plaudits, attention, or for people to like me. I come to them simply because I want to. 

You and any amount of your 'friends' can berate, belittle, and criticise me as much as you like, I'm still going to do what I want to do.

Honestly though; God I feel terrible, I feel terrible that I'm living in your head rent free.

Chalk smiles, noticing that Wilde bears an uncanny resemblance to the late CommissarKuku, his smile turns into a smirk, and then a snigger. "Poor bloke." He thought to himself.

Chalk, son, when you say you're gonna do what you're gonna do, you're just confirming that you have zero interest in self-improvement.

And Chalk, if ever a fellow needed to improve, it was you.

You could have been part of something, something big, and important.  But you chose individual mediocrity instead of group greatness.  And that will be your legacy.

All this talk of living in someone's head makes me think of The Glory Hole.  See, you lack if capacity to understand the metaphors at play there.  A dire lack of imagination means that you can only see yourself as the man visiting the Glory Hole and placing part of your body into the head of another man.  But son, that isn't what it's about.  You don't understand that you're on your knees, in service, like most other people here.  I have transcended the need to prove a point.  I simply intellectually break everything down, solve it, and then service the Streets with my work.  That's all I do.

I don't want plaudits either.  I used to think you were better than Connor_McManus, but I don't any more.  Connor is silly and he's ignorant, but he's got guts, and guts is enough.  At least in the limited world that you two operate in.

Aren't you interested in expanding your mind, your horizons?  Whats' wrong with you?   What happened to you?

Careful Kuku, your god complex is showing again. Figures you like hearing your voice so much that you couldn’t stay incog.

You really aren’t worth the effort but you never have been. Enjoy your time trying to bother people again. It’s the only thing that you are any good at.

PhilipMarleau, I mean Connor_McManus I rebuke you.  I rebuke your mean-spirited presence.  I cast you out of these Streets.

I dub thee a fantasist, and I mean it.  You are a head-banger.  Your bloodline BLASPHEMED and washed your innocence away with murder.  

To Hell with you.  To Hell with the Mooney associated with your tainted blood.  

To the Runner duo, for this is who you are one half of, I accuse you of the greatest crime of all!

The crime of a wasted life.

How do you plead, Connor_McManus?

Good thing that you don’t have any power to do anything. Best of luck in your efforts though. Clearly you’ve got nothing better to do with yourself.

Connor_McManus - son, I am new here.  I don't, as yet, have a gun.  I stand before you unprotected by bodyguards.  But I have powerful friends, let there be no doubt of that.

Men of honour.  Newspaper magnates.  Writers, assassins, vagrants.  I am a humble man but wonderful and powerful friends.

And you, you wretch, what exactly are you?  What are you for?

Sure thing Kuku. Whatever helps you sleep at night. 

I'm Wilde, Connor_McManus.  And I have zero difficult sleeping at night.

My conscious is clear.

Does your conscious bother you, now, tell the truth?

Here's the thing, son, we could have been allies.  Not on an even playing field, but I'd have looked out for you, made sure you weren't bullied too badly.  I've done it for others.  But you, you just have to keeping sending me my money back, insulting me.

And why?

Thank you, Hawk.  I've heard of this CommissarKuku character.  Apparently he was the son of the wealthiest mobster that ever lived.  Whatever.

He died in a duel: that's a brave way to die.  All those who knew him must be proud of him.

What's Connor's bloodline known for?

Lordian makes his way out to the area in which he heard his name called and looks around.

"It would seem I'm late to the party. Honestly, what I understand the late Wilde to have said about is is entirely accurate. I have not been a presence in the Streets. I don't find it necessary for what I do. Quite honestly I believe that what I say and do matters very little anyway so if I wanted to tell my stories in the Streets I would. I just find that telling stories, or visiting locations in which these things in my life are actually happening makes more sense.

That's not to say I will never have anything told in the Streets. It is entirely possible, and my ancestors have held the standard as well, that, should a single story take place across a broad spectrum of places, sometimes it is significantly easier for those telling and following along to have it told in the Streets.

I also have the same standard, as is evidenced here, that if I am called upon, I tend to show up, even if it is a little late." He gives a jovial smile as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it.

"For the record, I take no offense at the fact that I do or don't tell stories in the Streets, and hold no ill-will against the late Wilde, nor his kin wherever they may be. We can all lead lives mutually beneficial, or at leas exclusive, to one another should we try, until war breaks out of course. But that's just life."

The man steps back then and nods to the folks around The Streets before continuing on his day.