I Am Pushed To The Limit, And I Want My Freedom

Pushing the limits of The Report's good humour, Mr. Williams repeats the cravat of 27 March, the stripe of silver and sanguinary red. Irked as I am by not only this rapid repetition, but also by a blast of arctic weather and a late spring break, not to mention a few glimpses of Braveheart as I channel-surfed this weekend, and I'm feeling a bit violent. This evening's cravat is starting to look an awful lot like an upraised battle sword, fresh from the bowels of its adversary, hilts streaming blood as the wielder makes ready to run through yet another offender. (Probably someone who used the wrong form of "there" or made a noun plural with an apostrophe or, heaven help us, said "irregardless." Quelle horreur!)