We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl / Year after year

Off with his head, and set it on York gates; So York may overlook the town of York.

My own name, Veronica — an ugly enough thing I had always thought, it sounded like either the ointment or the disease — was one her great favourites. St Veronica wiped the face of Christ on the road to Calvary and He left His face on her tea towel. Or the picture of His face. It was the first-ever photograph, she said.

Man, there are some fine honeys here tonight!