Zealously denying the accusations, Richard waxed eloquent in his own defense. Words of unimaginable beauty, wit and intelligence poured forth from his rosy lips as he flaunted the erudition acquired by years of wearing navy blue jackets at elegant institutions at the expense of some unnamed patron. The company at the table listened attentively, their faces glowing with ardent admiration at his oratical prowess. His eyes flashed with righteous indignation, but his voice betrayed not a hint of anger as he expounded quite logically all the reasons why he could not have pocketed a butter knife—neglecting to mention, of course, that his inner pocket was unfortunately sewn shut as he had only just discovered before he dropped the knife onto the floor.