"Is that so, Babs?" Mr. Percey quickly countered.   "Oh, I forgot.  England pales in civility when compared to the Bahamas.  After all, in England, women are abducted in the dead of night, then the whole of government and authority is in on the magic trick.  Wait, that's not right, now is it?"  He rolled his eyes and tossed the napkin unto the table.   "Why do you always do this?  A person merely wishes to state a matter of fact, and you pounce on them as if they've stolen the Pallas of Troy.  It's not like I loathe these... people," he said, eyeing the fellow diners suspiciously.<br/><br/>Then, he took up his glass by the stem and drank the whole of it in one quick swig.  As he held the cup aloft, he subtly pointed towards another table.<br/><br/>Then, he poured another cup full.   "The delicacies of these two continents are merely subpar to our own."  He then rubbed his eyes, as if entering a deep melancholy.   "At least people here drive on the right side of the road!"<br/><br/>"What are we going to have to do to make it work?" he said, effecting a great deal of misery.  It was a show, but for who?  Mr. Percey had seen something.  Or someone.   "I want to very much make it work, Babs.  What do I have to do?  Stop being such a boar?  Fine!   Fine.  I swear that I am going to stop being a boar, from hereon in."  He then turned to look at the people around him.   "I love the Bahamas!  I think that you're a bunch of sunburnt bums, but I love the Bahamas."