I imagine myself right now.As a roman soldier.Ooh..This is itchy...
Someone walks up to me and says:"General!The front is not holding up to well.."I think to myself..."How did he know?" and then i say(shout actually in a rather more manly tone than what i can normally produce):Send in the reinforcements while always thinking to myself,why must all these men die in vain?All because some guy called Caesar(apparently one of the greatest emperors of all time(The Roman Chronicle etc etc...),sounds more like a name suitable for salad dressing if you ask me...)says we must win him glory on the battlefield.I mean what kind of *%$^#^#)^* is that?
Things still itchy...god ...damn these androgynous tailors...anyhow...I've gotto go now...
And so ends our valiant(yes I'm still talking about me,don't snigger) general's story.He died soon after.I believe his(my) last words were...ooh...This really is itchy...
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