He cleared out the coals from under the staircase, built a neat fire of firewood and paper there, he splashed about paraffine and arranged the lamps and can even as he had designed, and made a fine inflammable pile of things in the little parlour behind the shop. “Looks pretty arsonical,” he said as he surveyed it all.

Shut up! Shut up! What is this charity⁉ You’re kids! You can’t fucking drive! What money laundering scheme are you operating!?

Or maybe, like Stern, you can live-tweet comments about a television show as it is broadcast.

Don’t come the innocent victim. We all know who’s to blame here.