Think I've found my perfect job. According to
the ancient historian Plutarch (or 'P-Tark' as those celebrity chat
magazines insist on calling him) the Spartans would bring a helot
(basically a slave) into their Barracks and give him fine wine and
steaks so that young Spartans could see what idle pleasure and physical
softness did to a wretch. They weren't to harm the Helot, merely cajole and laugh at him.
I could work with that.
"Gods, I'm pathetic,
aren't I? Pass another glass would you? Thanks, Lads. Oh, er... woe is
me, I am a lowly dog... or, er, something..."
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