They'd been rumped out of half a kilo of charlie by a toeraf of a crack-head called Mad Mickey D from Bermondsey. And after he rumped them he was going round telling everybody that the Arifs were total fucking mugs. So they called him out for a drink one night, palled him up and then proceeded to get him paralytic.

The same logic applies to leg presses; the more you lower the sled, the harder your hams have to work, as long as you're controlling the weight.

Accordingly, by Dr. Chen's method of calculation, the copayment experience would have to be deemed even more pound-foolish than we found it to be.

This tension is familiar in the lives of most environmentalists. Some own cars; some still eat meat.