The laurel crown goes to the peerless Mr Eugenides, he of the mordant wit, whose destiny it shall be to dwell among the Olympians and whose bitter political tears, the sour fruit of years beneath the soiled, scuffed jackboot of an insane Socialist megalomaniac are very soon to be wiped away by the Bacchanalian festivities with which gods and mortals will celebrate the impending disgrace of the Great Brown Bastard and the destruction of all his fantasies.
Come again?
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