I was cleaning the gunk from under my toenails and was overcome by the urge to scream FAKE NEWS while one-throating a cheeseburger in bed. Toe jam be giving me a #trumpattack

[…] when the lord of a Lincolnshire or Shropshire manor appeared in Fleet Street, he was as easily distinguished from the resident population as a Turk or a Lascar. […] Bullies jostled him into the kennel. Hackney coachmen splashed him from head to foot. […]

We don't have much money, but we can at least pay some of these chump-change bills.

[…] My mother and grandmother wore nine-yard saris, with heavy anklets, armlets, waist belts and enormous noserings, but they observed all the Jewish rituals.'