So they tell me that oompa loompas don't really exist.
I got to on the plane that was meant to be taking me to Africa and one of my people handed me a phone. "Hello. This is [unpronounceable African name]. I'm sorry but there aren't really any oompa loompas in Africa".
"What about Brazil?"
"Sir, there isn't really any oompa loompas anywhere."
"But there must be! It said in this book I read..."
"Which section did you find the book?"
"Oh, it was just on the floor where I put all my other books that I intend to read sometime"
"I don't think the book is real, sir"
"How do you mean it isn't real!"
"Sir, I don't work for you."
"Are you wearing clothes?"
"Then you work for me. You did anyway. I order you to get undressed"
"You're nuts, man"
"I do no not hear undressing!"
The phone cut out at this point. So I threw it at the nearest person.
I'm still pretty sure oompa loompas exist. They just won't tell me. I mean, I exist- and my existence is as improbable as oompa loompas. (Who knew people would buy clothes the cost a few dollars to make for thousands? The great mystery of fashion, hm?). Therefore if I exist so must oompa loompas.
The other "designers" must be paying the Africans off so they can get the designs I throw out my window again. I will find the oompa loompas!