I note that we don’t exist. That nine millions Italians are phantoms, that each law that they conceive, and especially an electoral law, is against us and for their survival. I note that there’s no other possibility but to send them all home as soon as possible. I’m tired of them pissing around with me, these incompetent, conceited, intellectually depraved people that have destroyed Italy. I’m tired, but it’s that sort of tiredness that gives rise to an incredible rage.