“It’s unfuckingbelievable. Fucking peasants, arseholes – you lot take the fucking piss,” shouted the driver of a truck from a recycling and waste management company.

Then each mentioned some fact, some fantastic presentiment, some instance of souls communicating with each other across space, or some case of the secret influence of one being over another. They asserted and maintained that these things had actually occurred, while the sceptic angrily repeated: / Humbug! humbug! humbug!

A flag streams in the wind.

His captaines heart, / Which in the ſcuffles of great fights hath burſt / The Buckles on his breaſt, reneages all temper, / And is become the bellowes and the Fan / To coole a Gypſies Luſt.