I'm afraid that the time has come to rip Neil Harding a new arsehole. However, to correct his multifarious idiocies is going to take time, patience, booze and a massive amount of raw bile.

Alas, buggering off, as I am this evening, to a party in some god-forsaken cave somewhere near Rosslyn, is not going to allow me the required time in which to prepare this cornucopia of wrath, so I am going to save it.

Let slip the dogs of war...