"Free Tommy Robinson!" The people shouted. Then they all went home to drink beer. Oh, dear.
Well, we simply can't leave it at that, else we'll never get anything done. So, lean close and drink of these words deeply, for what comes next is the mead of the brotherhood of psionics!
Colleagues, it is time to send a psionic remedy to these loathsome bureaucrats who have managed to seize control of the unruly masses right out from under our noses! (As Gollum would have said in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, "It's ours! Ourrrs!" Or was it 'ours-es'?)
Well, of course the people are OURS! They don't belong to the wigs. Summoning the souls of the dead patriots we can win over any people. And hordes of ghosts await the souls of the bureaucrats. Dinner time!
Now the idea of cranes swinging bobbies around downtown London is all good fun, I have to admit. But perhaps my vision of catapulting bobbies is more artful in approach. Vrilock says, catapult these loathsome ghouls back to hell with a wickedly delicious spell!
Oh, what do you mean 'why'?! Don't be boring!
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