Religiously, as if they were self-help.
One wonders whether the mayhem will ever end. Six seasons of cannibalistic bitches, who have not died of kuru yet.
My moral support is for King Henry of England, determined to root out French rapscalliaty and liberate Boulogne (known to civilized people as 'Beunen').
The world is a bloody place.
As any thoughtful man would, I remember historical drama series from public television.
John Cleese: "And that concludes this week's episode of 'How to Recognize Different Parts of the Body' adapted for radio by Anne Hayden-Jones and her husband Piff. And now we present the first episode of a new radio drama series, 'The Death of Mary, Queen of Scots'."
"Part One: The Beginning."
"You are Mary, Queen of Scots?"
[Sounds of violent blows, chaos, anarchy, discord, and the gnashing of teeth; bones and plates breaking, and grievous wounding, with screaming from the woman who spoke.]
"Episode Two of 'The Death of Mary, Queen of Scots', can be heard on Radio Four almost immediately."
[Music, machine sounds, destructive noises, and even more screaming.
Followed by stillness.]
"I think she's dead."
'No, I'm not!'
[More sounds of violent mayhem and murder. End credit music plays.]
"That was episode two of 'The Death of Mary, Queen of Scots', adapted for radio by Bernard Holliwood and Brian London.
And now, Radio Four will explode."
No, I'm not particularly vested in the fortunes of the heretics of New York or Gaza. But if I had to choose, New York would win hands down, no questions. What care I for the tunnel rats of Gaza?
The temper and disposition of the troops is excellent.
Doubtless the knaves of Berkeley shall weep.
And lament their shrunken balls.
We live in a world where reason and learning no longer prevail.
It is time for that second cup of coffee that I've been promising myself since five thirty. There is a fog in the air. Soon.
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