. .prosodic arson. . . . . . .(header pic tribute to Zilon).

I offer you a fantastic excerpt from "London Fields", a novel by Martin Amis:

One thing about London: not so much dogshit everywhere. A lot still. Compared to New York, even old New York, it's the cloaca maxima. But nothing like it used to be, when the streets of London were paved in dogshit.
Explanation. The English still love their dogs, for some reason. But the dogs aren't living as long as they used to. Nothing is. It's weird. I mean, one expects snow-leopards and cockatoos and tsessebes to buy the farm eventually. But dogs? I have an image of fat Clive, sitting in a zoo.
How will we teach the children to speak when all the animals are gone? Because animals are what they want to talk about first. Yes, and busses and food and Mama and Dada. But animals are whhat they break theri silence for.

... 'tis a book you ought to give a read.