Laughing at Paupers
What can one do when one is surrounded by peasants, especially peasants who try to poke one’s wife through the open window of one’s Rolls-Royce. Bloody rotten ruffians, what?!
They should be hunted down like small woodland creatures and rounded up and put in a jolly big arena, stripped of their clothes and covered with jam while we set some flesh-eating safari ants on them. Tally ho!
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