"I don't know why it happens. If my food had been poisoned, I'd want to know about it before it was too late. But it was at a big cult dinner the other day when I rushed in and told the people at my table what I'd learned, and they just kept eating. A few of them seemed to be interested in what I said, and they paused, but once they saw that guy Mark continue on with his munch and quaff, they went right ahead and kept doing it, too. I guess they don't care if they die. Is that possible? Or is it just that they didn't take me seriously? But why would I lie about their food having been poisoned? I don't do that. I'm not that kind of girl. Or maybe they're just such sheep that they always have to go with the flow of what they see other people doing, even if it means at the very least a night married to the toilet, and at most death and damnation. Permanent death and damnation. Maybe even the tortures of Hell. I don't personally believe in an afterlife, but it's a useful threat to people who don't listen to science.
"Mark is such a humorless British assface. An English assface. Not Scottish or Welsh or whatever. No, he's English, the worst of the worst."