Pulitzer Prize Committee, you, you make me sick, all of you. Stand up, come out of the darkness and make yourselves known. I will rip your goddamned hearts out and replace them with one of you worthless metal trinkets. I will burn the flesh from your fat, arrogant, bloated bodies and brand you with your shame. I will pull out your teeth one by one and insult your clothing. You think the Onion needs your recognition? You think the Onion needs your silly prize? They don’t need you. They need only the respect and admiration of every literate soul with a thirst for knowledge and a yearning for truth. No, they don’t need you. They don’t need anyone! Hear me, Pulitzer Prize Committee, if you do not reward the Onion for it’s journalistic excellence, not because they care one whit, because I demand it, then I will make you know pain unlike anything you have ever known. As Satan as my witness I will make you know fear, and pain, worse than anything forged in the darkest bowels of cruelty itself you loathsome, pathetic, cowardly, dribbling, festering maggots. I am Mark Gatiss, and I will kill again.