They ain't half inconsiderate these mad scientists and receators of papal wines!
How many were out last night, waking me up with their tumultuous cacaphony? For heavens sake, all they need is a couple of jump leads with a plug attached bunged into a nearby socket!
Instead, there's all this heaving and creaking as they raise up their masterwork to the heavens, to attract bolts of electrickery whilst their Egor gamboles about in manic glee. Much professorial cackling abounds, as Herr Doktor intones the now legendary "Live! Live" whilst tugging on his "We Belong Dead" lever (oo-er missus!).
How's I supposed to get some sleep when Norfolk nob-ends are raising hybrid humanoids atop the turrets* of Caistor Castle, with the resulting chimeric monstrosities taking refuge in the windmills about the Broads.
They thought me mad...
* "BLOODY {WANKER} TOWERS ON {ARSEHOLES} CASTLE INDEED", SAID A PASSING BLOKE WITH TURRETS SYNDROME...
