Those traitors, those good-for-nothing, disrespectful traitors. I’ll see them all swinging from a yardarm before this week is out, I tell you – you just wait and see.
The negotiations of the last week failed yesterday evening because of the obstinacy of Ms Pryer. I can’t believe I ever let that woman on my editorial board. She’s so unreasonable; all I asked for was their unconditional return to work at half their annual rate of pay and a signed oath of eternal allegiance to me – I mean, is that really too much to ask for? Apparently so. So it’s come to this: me sitting in my office, bravely sheltering under my desk and writing my side of the story to the world. You all understand, I’m sure; over the past months, have I not shown myself to be a kindly, considerate, morally upstanding member of the community? Of course I have. But now these traitors have thrown my generosity back in my face. Well, rest assured, they shall see for further quarter. There shall be no mercy. I shall fall upon them with the avenging fury of the wronged feline that I am.
Now, you must excuse me: Tony’s just lobbed a grenade in through the back window. It’ll take more than that to bring me down. Come back here, Tony, you young ragamuffin, my shotgun and I want a word with you.
Death to the traitors.