blowing wind not porridge in this context

we should take it to the streets again, said sponge, and not let fart jokes come our way. it is the day of labour after all a serious matter.
yep, said breadroll matter-of-factishly, the working class are the very group of people generally identified in marxist theory as the proletariat. you are right there, said sponge, i agree, but although they are in a struggle for power with the bourgeoisie, the members of the working class must, nonetheless, sell their labour to the bourgeoisie to produce the material needs for their society.
that make things difficult, said breadroll, you simply can’t have a revolution in a day.

and gone with the wind

not only did you need to chatter, said sponge, but also had you have to have bowel movements. unscheduled, if i may add.
that’s what killed silence, said breadroll while block of wood was embarrassed and said nothing. there even was talk of tears.
rightly so, said sponge, he shouldn’t say anything.
no, he shouldn’t, said breadroll. unless a specific appointment requires him to do so.
exactly, said breadroll.
and only after approval, said sponge.
isn’t there a meeting soon, said breadroll.
indeed, said sponge, we should go.
they poured cups of tea and prepared a few nice words.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.