You starres that raignd at my natiuitie, / Whose influence hath alloted death and hel, / Now draw vp Faustus like a foggy mist, / Into the intrailes of yon labring cloude, / That when you vomite foorth into the ayre, / My limbes may issue from your smoaky mouthes, / So that my soule may but ascend to heauen: […]
...but the professors had not digested their knowledge with practical execution in mind, with the result that my boy is having to redigest it.
Parents will have to be told what they need and then informed that, too bad, so sad, the needed service will not be developed until their child is too old for it anyway.
This is Pat Fitzpatrick's satirical response: '[…]All they want to do is drink Fat Frogs and flash their boobs while he likes to cry over nothing and sometimes go to fortune tellers.'
