It is difficult not to write satire. - Juvenal

However faster we pedestrians may hurry, crowds surge ahead, those behind us buffet my rib-cage, poles poke into me; one lout swings a crossbeam down on my skull, another scores with a barrel. My legs are mud-encrusted, from all sides big feet kick me, a hobnailed soldier’s boot lands squarely on my toes.

No man ever became extremely wicked all at once.

Nil habet infelix paupertas durius in se, quam quod ridiculos homines facit.