The mighty ghosts of our great Harries rose.

Tinguely organized a metamatic art contest for the best picture made on his machines and told a reporter that a metamatic was “an anti-abstract machine, because it proves that anyone can make an abstract picture, even a machine.

“Got anybody else staying at the old snake pit?” “Five inmates in all.” “Five?” I resumed my tongue-clicking. “Golly! Uncle Tom must be frothing at the mouth a bit,” I said, for I knew the old buster's distaste for guests in the home. Even a single weekender is sometimes enough to make him drain the bitter cup. … “Bertie! Your manner is strange.” “Your manner would be strange if you'd been sitting on the floor of Wilbert Cream's sleeping apartment with a chair round your neck, and Ma Cream had come in.” “Golly! Did she?” “In person.” … “And after I had seethed for a bit I rose from my chair, took pen in hand and wrote Bobbie a stinker.” “Oh, gosh!” “I put my whole soul into it.” “Oh, golly!”

The dominance of the men in yellow over the past decade turned international cricket into a one-horse race.