In the category of Ultimate Insult to Injury, there is something so unexpectedly awful about the prospect of being done in by the giddy, the fey and the fruity. I refer, of course, to the Gumball 7, the sicky-sweet, color-coordinated, herky-jerky-jocular Figureheads of the Western World.
Having driven their respective nations into ashes and tears, their evident glee is mockery of us all.
It is almost as if they think they have gotten away with it.
Have they forgotten who their masters are?