I saw a Moderator once.
I was in a bar, getting a little lubrication after a hard day at the office. Suddenly the background chatter died away to a hushed silence. I turned my head, and there, framed in the doorway, stood a magnificent figure of a man. He slowly surveyed the patrons of the bar, riding crop gently tapping against his jackboot, his piercing blue eyes resting for a moment on each, and each seemed to visibly shrink beneath his gaze. There was no mistaking it, I thought dizzily, this was a Moderator! The chiselled jaw, the devilishly handsome features, the ‘sneer of cold command’ playing about the mouth. Time seemed frozen as all present wondered just whom the moderator sought, just as all prayed fervently that he sought not them.
Suddenly, at another entrance, appeared the most stunningly beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. Seeing the Moderator she smiled, and every man’s heart save one broke, in the knowledge that that smile would never be turned on them. She strode across the room, and watching that gorgeous body in motion I could think only of Herrick’s lines
Whenas in silks my Julia goes
Then, then methinks, how sweetly flows
The liquefaction of her clothes.
The female Moderator, for such of course she was, spoke softly to the male, bringing a wintry smile to his lips. Then, with a magnificent toss of her auburn locks and a thrust of her ample bosom, she was gone. The man surveyed us once again, as who should say, “Yeah, in your dreams, losers!”, and, turning a scornful back to us, followed his mate into the night.
I got well and truly plastered that night and staggered home to bed. In dreams, at least, I could walk with the Gods.
(Mods: put my check in the mail as usual).
so I’m inclined to give 'em a break. 
