"You're a snob," he insisted, "and you want to hit me."
On the contrary, I said, I had no desire whatever to hit him. "Yes, you do," he said, coming closer. "I can tell by the way you flexed your shoulder muscles. You're getting all psyched up."
I said that any shoulder-flexing had been entirely involuntary, and that, even if I had flexed my shoulders, it did not mean that I wanted to hit him. He thought about this a bit, and then said that perhaps it would be easier all round if he hit me' (Boris Johnson)
He goes on to describe street scenes worthy of Hieronymus Bosch with pasty-faced, bottom-dwelling creatures looming out of the gloom, shouting incomprehensible oaths and invitations. BJ's Wodehousian verbal googlies diverted stupid cupid's dart mid-flight from this:
"It is, quite frankly, a scandal that we have failed to come up with a solution to the problem of the sliding slice of tomato."
"Research has shown that an important part of sandwich satisfaction lies in opening it up and peering at the filling before eating it. This is why I am urging RHM, the creators of the crustless loaf, to take up my idea of the edible hinge." (Oliver Pritchett)
OP's learned article is in the tradition of the redoubtable Myles naGopaleen, who invented trains with tracks on top to allow overtaking, and pop-up theatre seats to deliver latecomers direct to their places.