Simply mentioning the word nationalism to him is like a red rag to a bull.

How many Masters have some stately Houses had, in the age of a small Cottage, that hath, as it were, lived, and dyed with her old Master, both dropping down together. Such vain Preservatories of us, are our Inheritances, even once removed: but look on it more Removes off, and continuing in thy Name, yet how little doth that concerne Thee (though the first Purchaser, or his Heire) Lazy Posterity, when they heare it so called know it by the Name, but not as thine; […]

His extra shirt, instead of being wadded into the fore-end of the saddlebag on top of a pair of socks, had been stuffed into the hinder end on top of a pair of underdrawers.

Watch out those crazy skinheads! They made someone bite the curb the other night.