`` now , it 's like ... like my own fortress has been blown up with gunpowder-there 's nothing left of it but ashes and a smoking rooftree , and the little nak*d thing that lived there once is out in the open , squeaking and whimpering in fear , tryin ' to hide itself under a blade of grass or a bit o ' leaf , but ... but not ... makin ' m-much of a job of it . ''