The wary Trojan shrinks, and bending low
Beneath his Buckler, disappoints the Blow.
Thinks I to myself, “Sol, you're run off your course again. This is a rich man's summer ‘cottage’ and if you don't look out there's likely to be some nice, lively dog taking an interest in your underpinning.”
Edmund: This is the Jane Herrington?
Percy: Yes.
Edmund: Jane - bury-me-in-a-Y-shaped-coffin - Herrington.
Percy: I.., I think maybe there are two Jane Herringtons.
Edmund: No... Tall, blond, elegant?
Percy: Right, that's right.
Edmund: Goes like a privy door when the plague is in town?
There is a fine dividing line between the everyday sensationalism of popular and tabloid journalism and the parodies in such publications as the British satirical magazine Private Eye, which uses proletarianisms in such headlines as The Royals, dontcha lovem!
