This afternoon, I was outrageously accused of being unfair to young people. And I have no intention of forgiving the childish little shit who said it.
Yes, I had just finished writing up a complaint to the council about the lads across the road, but this had nothing to do with bias — I was only speaking on behalf of the entire street. And when I came home from the surgery yesterday, my comment about the new consultant’s youthful choice of shoes was purely innocent. And why would someone appear on television in droopy trousers if he didn’t want his pert, tender bottom to be remarked upon? I’m allowed my opinions, aren’t I?
Despite Christopher’s attempt to back me into a corner (an experience I have enjoyed much more in the past), you’ll not see me making any grand comments on a large group of people. That would be discriminatory, and if there’s one thing I hate more than Australians, it’s discrimination.
But I will say this: if you are a member of the large group of people who claimed the new Doctor’s dialogue needs subtitles, you, my friend, are a racist.
Everyone Needs an Algonquin 
Agatha’s Public Chimes In