Actually, this is all just a bad dream. You’re at home, in bed, heavily sedated, resting comfortably, dying from the carcinogens you personally spewed in a lifetime of profiteering. Tragic irony or poetic justice, you tell me.

More from Batman Returns

• Honey, I’m home. Oh, I forgot. I’m not married.
• Research tells us that it’s people like mayors that have hands.
• Ah, the direct approach. I admire that from a man with a mask.
• The heat is getting to me, I’ll kill you momentarily.
• Touring the riot scene. Gravely assessing the devastation. Upstanding mayor stuff.
• Why is there always somebody that brings eggs and tomatoes to a speech?