I just don’t get it – these odious midgets now want to turf me out of their Lego kingdom. I swear, the last time I pissed on someone they slipped me a tenner and treated me to a steak pie at the King’s Head. Besides, ‘size’ is an Enlightenment social construct. Fuck Kant, seriously. (Although entering the society of really really small people does do wonders for one’s sense of adequacy). So that’s it, I’m off. No bargain buckets of miniature sheep could persuade me to stay. I’m going to do what I always wanted to do, ever since my sinister uncle Oswald took me on an ‘educational’ trip to the family stud farm when I was six: I shall live among horses, and make my sport there. Horses don’t talk back when you ride them, and what’s more it’s socially acceptable to whip them. Far preferable to midgets.

Gulliver, Lilliput Border Detention Centre, 1702.