Hare-riffic

The low and haunting dirge sounds affect me. The numbers pile up. Soon the many will tragically become the few or the none. I cry out in the night and my screams continue to fall on deaf ears. I, however, must stifle an inner chuckle. This poor, pathetic, ingenious chap has managed to do himself in by peeing on the third (live) rail in the metro (i.e. the tube). He has been crispy fried. Clever chap. Despite my mirth, I must reiterate that these losses are needless and preventable, completely avoidable. You only need to send me large sums of money, this is the only way that I can think of for you to expunge your guilt and remove your deep, deep shame. And all the people said "Hallelujah, where's my checkbook?"