Time flies when you're having fun.
During these suppers McCluskey's conversation centred almost exclusively around the parlous moral, cultural and environmental state of the planet.
The data got lost, so I'll have to perform another run of the experiment.
So that if a boor complains of a broken-head, or a beer-seller of a broken can, or a daft wench does but squeak loud enough to be heard above her breath, a soldier of honour shall be dragged, not before his own court-martial, who can best judge of and punish his demerits, but before a base mechanical burgo-master, who shall menace him with the rasp-house, the cord, and what not, as if he were one of their own mean, amphibious, twenty-breeched boors.
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