Oratory

Pickle (or an ancestor) on a podium on Pnyx Hill faced a crowd in an amphitheatre that accomodated 18,000 of unwilling attendees. Police with long ropes dipped in wet paint made sure that there were enough attendees to make the whole meeting worthwhile even though most of the aforementioned attendees were asleep. Boring!
Nevertherless (always the more)it was a stirring occasion and the soup was teriffic.
LITTLE FLY upon the stone (2)/ I know your head ain't made of bone/ So when I hit you with my swatter/ You'll find your head a little flatter/ (Well! Poetic licence, it looks the same).