[…] that you have induced a horrid phlegmatic condition with will soon require a liberal and generous humectant to keep the very membranes of your very entrails from desquamating, chipping off and blocking up all the pipes of your body.
In The Trial of Henry Kissinger the late British journalist, best known for his Vanity Fair columns, his deliberately provocative opinion that women aren’t funny and his penchant for booze and fags, steamrolls the former US National Security Advisor and Secretary of State for Presidents Nixon and Ford with a polemical brilliance so assured it cancels out the occasional flashes of arrogance and pomposity.
Apart from the problemette with the punchy bits, I've got only one reservation with the game and that's that the tie-in element is a bit shaky to say the least.
“Son—now's not the time, please.” “It's the perfect time—it's the best time fucking time I ever had. There's not gonna be another time, so don't son me, you bastard. […]”
