You have caught me, sir, like a treen in a disabled spaceship.
Maybe by the time I'm growne up, there'll be roome for a huge lout with zero branes. In which case, i mite still get a nitehood.
The Jell Bar: It was a strange, splintery winter, the winter they exhumated King Richard III, and I didn't know what I was doing in Leicester. I'm stupid about exhumations. The idea of being exhumated makes me sick, and that's all there was to read about in the papers - goggle-eyed headlines staring up at me at every street corner and at the filthy, beef burger-smelling shelter of every bus stop. It had nothing to do with me, but I couldn't help wondering what it would be like, being dug up all along your bones.
I thought it must be the worst thing in the world.
doing the wythenshawe waltz, them was rotten days, tomb it may concern