🚀 go-pugleaf

This puerile Winston Churchill Drunk At A Party claptrap has caused me
major inconvenience, Mr. Domini Domini.  Seeing the subject heading,
and believing it to contain the coded message I've been waiting for
prior to launching my planned war of Utter Annihilation on all the
People I Don't Much Care For (you'll be honored to hear that you are
now one of them, but don't get too flustered; it's a very long list,
and can't be begun upon until I've completed the list of People Who
Really Cheese Me Off,) I quickly aborted a message which I was
preparing for distribution to Pat's Clubhouse, and which was to have
been a Major Work; future historians will curse your name while
struggling over the fragment.  Turning my attention to your note, I
found the coded message as expected, and you almost got me, sir- you
almost did.  I sat with my finger poised above the Big Orange Button,
slavering wolverines crouched at my feet, sluice-traps opened to
receive the requisite rivers of gore etc., when suddenly I saw your
mistake: Winston Churchill, being an Englishman, was *always* drunk;
therefore the condition would not have been noted by reputable observers.
This is compounded by the implication in your story that some, but not
all, of those present were also of the British persuasion, so that you
could possibly have escaped your predicament by framing the tale in some
appropriate way, e.g.- "I was at a bar in Queens once, and the bartender
told me about the time he spent in England, and how all these drunken
Englishmen..." or some such.  Absent this rhetorical device, your gambit
was bound to fail, but I do congratulate you on coming so tantalizingly
close, and promise that your end, when it comes, shall be a fittingly
gruesome one.
Cuthbert