‘They sneak, like predators in the night.
Scheming and weaving strange fabrics of the underworld that nightmares are made of. Resembling the hellhole of a Mumbai sweatshop, where the age of twelve would make you a senior supervisor.
Never mind the battle of Waterloo, where they spun their lies, enabling them to parasite the modern economy, suck it dry, pump it up, suck it dry and pump it up, and those basics steps are still moving. The rotten child had its finest hour at Waterloo, bred and breathed into Rottenness Incarnate.’