And what are we to make of you, Delwy, in the Eurovision contest of squealing stuck pigs? Nil points, je propose.
My dearest
Leo. How nice to have attracted your attention. I consider it a compliment that I should have been deemed worthy of your consideration and condescension.
Mais, moi ami, nul points? What a mortal put down. You know the weasel wound, you dirty devil.
As always, anyone with a view at variance with your own must, by definition, be a management stooge.
Now Leo, my good fellow, you are unlike the trolls and flotsam of this particular
unterwelt, (amongst others – and I just adored your bit on
Brideshead Revisited for example, and as for the other
unterwelten ‘nuff said). In turn you could do me the minimal courtesy of avoiding mindless accusations for which there is no supporting evidence. Mr. Chairman, a point of information for the camel, yer man only proposed a test for the confused and schizoid of Ryanair; he went no further than to make a proposition for a "fellow traveller litmus test", so please tell the camel to read with more attention.
How very tiresome. How very ordinary. How very un-Leo.
Leo, as that most discomforted and discombobulated of afflicted mortals, namely one with the intelligence to work it all out, you can really do better. But don’t worry about
lil ole moi – apply your efforts to what sits, self-evidently, in front of your very own nose, “Ryanair Reality”.
This pilot can do better, judging from his previous efforts. Counselling may help, but we may be talking about decades. Sad. Irredeemable. Advanced rhetorical and ideological disease with a dose of suppressed self-loathing syndrome – and all compressed into a self-righteous Ryanair pilot.
I would have thought this depressingly dismal package might even prove to be untreatable.