This message would be so conveyed much more easily if you could see my facial expression. Of course, however, this is the internet and that is not possible. Onto the matter at hand! During my tour of America (surely you heard?) in 1882, I met many an interesting character and became quite acquainted with many an opera-house-orchestra-pit by way of being tossed into them by irate, effeminate-man-hating crowds. Then again, I got quite the same reaction from the British public, but the instance during which I had a very very bad engineer on a train was the one that sealed it for me. He kept starting and stopping the damnable machine, causing me to be jarred from my seat, in an attempt to "bother that blubbery sissy-boy in the silk stockings." The man also relished pointing out the blood and viscera caked upon the frontal grill of his train that came from plowing over so many deer. My name in Irish Gaelic means this exactly: "deer lover." And although I can't say I have any particular fondness, I can neither say that I have any particular disdain for the creatures. I would just prefer not to step out of a gut-laden locomotive to greet my not-so-adoring fans.


This is why I do not like America.