[If he dies he dies.]

I mean, I'd take a cricket bat over having to get my boots dirty.

[This is clearly the ultimate issue here, whether or not he can keep his clothing clean. He can't miracle it anymore, like he used to.]

They ought to give us those stupid little batons that bobbies have, that'd at least be useful.

[He takes a half step forward, cautiously nudging one of the "lambs" with the toe of his boot, flinching back when it attempts to bite him.]

Fucking hell.