Intro: What it is, my hunting hounds

V1: You're a peasant from Stepford, I'm a real professor
You're the butler or maid, I'm the Duke or Contessa
My theories are cheddar, yours are an abrogation of reality
In totality
Hence the need for my ongoing perspicacity
It's clear the psychic phenomena are beyond scientistic understanding
You're fronting, or biting, with your spiritualist grandstanding
It's landing like a lead dirigible on these ears, there's fears you might be an escaped patient from Bedlam, you're meddling with forces from beyond your comprehension.
This is science, hound - you can't stick the mystic back into the oracle
Now run back to Cranford
While I polish my monacle.

- Prof. Dr. Sir Fortescue Plimpton-Bilgewater, 04/1865, Meeting at Royal College of Physicians (abr.)