Blitherits

Some day you will come across a blitherit, and this is how you will know. You’ll tell them to do something very simple, yet utterly necessary, such as to stop talking back stage during a show. They’ll nod compliantly and stop talking… for about 60 seconds, and then start right back up again as if the request no longer applied. You’ll tell them again and remind them of the importance (say, of not talking backstage during a live performance) and they will nod as if to say, “Oh yes, I forgot!” and turn around. 60 seconds later they will be talking, yet again. No matter how many times you tell a blitherit to stop something or to do something, they will never EVER do it. Eventually they’ll start blaming someone else, even if you’re pretty sure they don’t know why you’re angry with them.
The worse torture known to man is to be stuck in a small dark space with two blitherits. The more blitherits there are, and the smaller the space they are in, the less time it will take for them to forget what you just told them. Eventually you’ll be feeling some pretty harsh admiroscourge, gremlin slowly taking over your world, because no matter how simple and logical your request, they will never understand it.