I tire of this nonsensical tomfoolery

[Bizarro Snigtad Flornbi]

Dell Rusk, you unenviable cur, you disgust me in every way imaginable. Although I normally would not stoop to such a level as to hurl insults at a half-simian buffoon such as yourself, and the crass humour of the denizens of this website has kept me at bay for quite some time, I have ascertained that you do not by any stretch of the imagination understand the true significance of the trite expression "yon straw which broketh the back of yon camel." No, my dear groundling, you not only saw fit to do such as break the camel's back, you then dropped trou and proceeded to sodomize the poor beast in front of a schoolyard full of penniless orphaned lasses. I request, nay, I demand that you disassociate yourself from the domains of this Action Online and return to your normal homophobic silliness! For, as you have proclaimed yourself to be an imperfect clone of my Earth-1 counterpart, the depths of the depravity to which you are stooping are holding me, as your polar opposite, to a level of sainthood which I cannot possibly hope to aspire under natural circumstances!

Cease and desist, and again be nothing more than a petty nuisance, or I shall be unwillingly forced to throttle thee!

To put it in terms one as base as thyself can comprehend, "Burn, bitch!"

[The Grip]

Ho ho ho ho! Vhat ees goingk on? Mah frahnds undt Ah have been bizah veet your mothairs, undt theese whole crahzy websaht eet ees goingk mad!

How you say, loco?

[The Grin]

Crazy? Yes. More importantly, have we fucked Bizarro Snigtad Flornbi's mother yet? She should be drop dead gorgeous because non-bizarro Snigtad's mother was a beast.

[The Grip]

Ah have scowaired mah recairds, undt eet appairs zat vee have, indeed, not focked his mothair! How zees ovairsaht ahccurred es una misteria to me! We must, how you say? Cah-rayct zees mahstahk most rapidamente!

Membairs of Zee Group: commence focking zee paihrahnts!!

[Bizarro Snigtad Flornbi]

Alas, my dear mother died in childbirth, may God rest her soul. Were it not for the ruffians of Dickensian England, more specifically those chaps of Whitechapel, I likely would have passed on to the great beyond myself. As it were, I grew in both mental capacity and stature, to become the Duke of Earl von Sandwich. Surely, you of all people must be familiar with my station, Frenchman, as it were my predecessor who brokered the peace following the ill-fated misadventures of your <snicker> Emperor Napoleon.