A tea drinker is a lion held back in wait. A tiger, prowling. Coffee drinkers are loud, barbarous almost, drunken tattooed Celts unable to hold back their braying and roars.
They are unsubtle in their cravings; uncivilized in their brutishness. Coffee may take the battle but my money is on the tea.
History is not written by the victor but rather by a patient, tweedy tea-drinker whose pen is far mightier than any man-made sword.
(I shall sip my tea. To this
victor tweedy goes the spoils.)