When I lifted my eyes from the page, there was none of the meretricious argument London always offers that the sole real purpose in life is to hustle for a buck.

Naomi Klein is right to call Atlas Shrugged 'pulp' – there is plenty of bodice-ripping in its romantic sections, and, very significantly, there are never any babies produced.

The rise of rap and new jack and the proliferation of other urban music labels meant the glory days of PIR were effectively over.

to dig in one's feet, heels, etc.