“Good morrow to thee, jolly fellow,” quoth Robin, “thou seemest happy this merry morn.” ¶ “Ay, that am I,” quoth the jolly Butcher, “and why should I not be so? Am I not hale in wind and limb? Have I not the bonniest lass in all Nottinghamshire? And lastly, am I not to be married to her on Thursday next in sweet Locksley Town?”

There an assistant D.A., a thirtyish young man sporting Harry Potter spectacles and prematurely thinning hair, […]

I'd like to see someone pie the chairman of the board.

The police caught you on CCTV, now you're really buggered.