Oh woe to the day, yes the day of birth of every trade union. Look, a mad dog is standing there on the horizon. The mad dog thinks he is making a covenant with God, but it is with Satan.

Someone calls; look, the bitch of the mad dog suddenly lies mortally wounded. On the side her litter is lying, looking sickly unhealthy also. It is a mishmash of black and white, so horrific garish.

So woe to the day, yes the day of birth of every trade union. Look, from this beast’s abomination mouth there is now hanging a very dangerous explosion-fuse. Yes, the mad dog will soon run around in complete confusion, everywhere it is just demanding property and wrongful land. It is running in a whirlwind and everywhere the Euros, Dollars, Rands and Pounds are blowing around like useless leaves. On one side an abandoned child is weeping and he is very blond.

He cries and says; never again will all the nations want to bond with each other because all the nations are lying so lifeless, so unhealthy. So woe to the day of the mad dog, because it was the day of birth of every filthy trade union.