Modern life is a tale told by an idiot;
flat-chested, crop-headed, chemicalised women, of indeterminate sex,
and wimbly-wambly young men, of sex still more indeterminate,
and hygienic babies in huge hulks of coffin-like perambulators —
The great social idiot, it must be confessed,
tells dull, meaningless, disgusting tales,
and repeats himself like the flushing of a W.C.