"It's like...well, how does one explain it?
See, a long time ago, people were hanged all the time for the pettiest of crimes. And they used to do it terribly; they'd make you stand on this stool and tie this taught rope around your neck and then they'd knock the stool out from under you. You'd hang there, failing, blood pouring out of every hole of your body. Eventually, you'd die but it was slow and horrible. So, someone came up with a new way where the rope wasn't so tight and they used a trap door so when you fell, you'd break your neck. Instantaneous, they said. Painless. Well, one day, this guy in Scotland, I think, was going to be hanged and instead of this trap door opening nice and quick like it was supposed to, it got stuck. And it was just like the old way, flailing and beeding and all. The crowd was pissed and they cut this dude down, carrying him all around, throwing this totally unnecessary hissy fit. The cops showed up about then and the crowd dropped this guy's body and got the hell out of there. Turns out he was still alive so they cleaned him up and hanged him again. This time, it went fine. Snap, he was dead.
"I feel like that guy. Expecting my inevitable death to come quick but they keep dragging it out, longer than they promised. I'm just waiting for the snap."
(Written from my hotel room in Glasgow.)