Billy, of course, does not understand, nor will he ever accept, that this childish response is akin to waiving the white flag of surrender.
You're the one who surrenders eventually; cooking up one excuse or another. And not only with me.
This is so funny. It's like trying to have a conversation with a 6 year old.
Little Billy "knows" that I am wrong, but he can not explain just how I am wrong, so he just throws a few temper tantrums, stamps his feet and throws out one nasty (by his standards) one-liner after another.
My grandfather once asked me how can you tell an idiot that he is an idiot? The answer was: tell him he is sane and wait for him to argue with you and tell you you are wrong