The transition from republic to Principate brought a new and potent factor into the legal picture of the Roman state, the princeps or emperor.

It’s no stretch to posit that because human neurotransmitters respond to the platform’s iconic use of a certain shade of blue, and spark with dopamine upon receiving a “like” or “tag” notification, desperate children are now living in cages and a raving madman occupies the Oval Office. Not even Orwell, after a feast of psilocybin, could have predicted this dystopia.

After six such encounters in tiny corner shops which normally complained that they were out of sugar, that the cornflakes were late in again and that they couldn't get tomato sauce for love nor money, the Captain, his head reeling, had staggered into the High Street off-licence.

Kick ass! I just got my friend to stop playing that stupid song!