An intern in my firm was so zealous that he would all but affix razor blades to his limbs to lacerate his fellow volunteers as he cut a swath to brown nose the company's bold-faced names. One day around the lunch table, waxing inanely about his imagined political expertise, he set to railing against DC corruption, singling out Member of Congress X as the quintessence of political chicanery. "Oh, wow, he's so dirty," declaimed this budding Charlie Cook. "Really?" asked a colleague sitting next to him, "Do tell me more. By the way, pleased to meet you [pause for effect]... I'm [name of Member of Congress X] Jr."
I don't believe the shade of fuchsia that enveloped the intern's face actually exists in nature.