Your words are measured and guarded, but with me to divine their true meaning is but the work of an instant.
You find my pronouncements disagreeable? They fail to grip? You have been patient, but every man has his limits, and this blot upon the landscape is to be suffered no longer?
Quite so, quite so. You say to yourself "The musings of this pestilence Crisp, this man of blood, are about the thickest thing I ever struck." 'Knob-jockey' is without doubt the mot juste for one that would subject you to such an ordeal.
Henceforth, men will think of Job, Solzhenitsyn, and Prince Nez in a single thought, and consider that the first two got off damn lightly.
I recommend you fortify yourself with a brandy-based tissue restorer, which will at least still the quivering ganglions and permit you a few hours of much needed but likely fevered rest. You must then decide upon the steps to be taken to bring this persecution to an end. I would counsel placing the matter before the forum authorities and demanding a full and public trial of the miscreant Crisp. Rambo can be relied upon to dispense justice, and the spectacle will add greatly to the gaiety of the forum.