“There’s a poem I like,” Harry said. “By Robert Graves. About cats. Cats, he says, make their point by walking round it. It’s all right for cats. For humans, as you say—weaselly. Why don’t they come out with it?”

[W]e are Fellovves ſtill, / Seruing alike in ſorrovv: […]

The fear of being "dotcommed” was a powerful catalyst creating a reactionary environment.

All the rest do mostwhat far amiss.