From the hitchkikers guide:
It is by eating sandwiches in pubs on Saturday lunchtimes that the British seek to atone for whatever their national sins have been. They’re not altogether clear what those sins are, and don’t want to know either. Sins are not the sort of things one wants to know about. But whatever sins they are are amply atoned for by the sandwiches they make themselves eat.
If there is anything worse than the sandwiches, it is the sausages which sit next to them. Joyless tubes, full of gristle, floating in a sea of something hot and sad, stuck with a plastic pin in the shape of a chef’s hat: a memorial, one feels, for some chef who hated the world, and died, forgotten and alone, among his cats on a back stair in Stepney. The sausages are for the ones who know what their sins are and wish to atone for something specific.
The last paragraph feels like this
The other one they do is “never leaving the tent”
I have been in that many discuusions where someone just has to have the last word, their posts getting longer & longer but making more or less the same point.
It feels like arguing with a LLM.