I learned eons ago to never respond to one whose name means "toad who sits on his butt and spins word webs with which to capture unlearned and doofus bugs, so he can consume them for his own selfish satisfaction".

Mr. Wigley has had detractors for centuries. They have passed; Mr. Wigley has remained.

One hundred years from now, the toad shall no longer be here. Mr. Wigley shall.

Rant, rave, ye heathen toads! You words are empty, like clouds without water. You are but an ephemera. A vapor. A gnat flying around the anus of a Giant.

Sir Harold