“I put in an order to the Princesses to send me a cart-load of badflanks and battle-hungry fighting machines. Instead all I got was you: a bunch cupcake-choking clowns and a side order of fail-nuggets. I can tell at a glance that at least half of you are imbeciles, and the other half are imbeciles who've never been told to believe in themselves! I'm going to shove my hoof so far and fast up your flanks it'll trigger an earthquake!
You all reek of poverty and incompetence. Every breath you take is a stunning endorsement against inbreeding. You manure-stains are a collective masterpiece of failure. You cloud-goblins square-dance each other to exhaustion every night. You signed up to pound monsters like Applewood action heroes, but probably cried like sissies when you realized they can murder or eat you horribly before you can even swing your hoof! Your sensitive eyeballs cry so many tears you could float away on a river of timber-wolf canoes! You glitter-hoofed, chicken-wrangling, Breezie-tinkle, fat-puffing sock-puppets are gonna get your collective flanks kicked so hard, you'll think you are getting whopped by Tirek himself!
I will reorganize the failure that is all of your lives. I will BUCK START your souls. I'll make you mango-loving, rock-chomping lightning-rods scream harder than your mothers after her fourth time scorching her hooves at the oven. I'm going to chop off your shrivelled wings, put them where your eyes should be, put a bowler hat on your head and beat you like a punching bag! Tartarus, I'll make you soil yourself so many times you'll give farmers down below a booming fertilizer business!
But fear NOT! Because in a few years, I will turn you monarchs of fools into masters of world domination!”
--- Spitfire, commander of the Wonderbolts and drill-sergeant of the cadets, to a new group of recruits.