If nothing else Roy has ignited passion deep inside you, yankee. He has emboldened your spirit. Your literary prowess shines so brightly with your new muse stimulating you that it's become uncontainable. It's bursting out from within you, a geyser erupting against the pressure of the world around it. Sure roy is hypocritically self righteous and delusional, but just let me bask in the glory of your words and phrases. If roy is a giant smelly turd, you're a compost pile. Taking the trash of the world and turning it into the most precious gift of all, laughter.
You, sir, are a keen turner of phrases, an agent of allegories, perhaps (can it even be uttered?!) a master of malopropisms and certainly an artist with verbiage. Truly: The Ace of Audibles.
I will take the compost pile analogy as a great honor. I am merely an Observer of the rarely spotted, oft-heard Orange-Breasted Gnome. Its trilling call is often likened to that of a cash register ringing up another hapless customer, or even the excited shrilling that a strutting peacock makes when it spots a mirror.