Well, you know what it’s like. You leave the running of things in the hands of imbecile children with delusions of grandeur, far, far too much money and a set of covetous, lily-livered, grovelling, cringing, enslaved minions to back them up and sanction their every move, and you end up with situations so beyond the absurd as to need a brand new word to describe it. The mostriciattoli, poor mites, are on the farthermost side of flabbergasted. I do feel for them, I do.