“... One of those chaps over there said someone feagues his horse. What the hell’s ‘feague’?” / O’Reilly’s sides heaved. “Feague? You’d know it as a different expression, but it’s a trick unscrupulous horse dealers use to make a horse look better than it is. You can judge a horse’s spirit by the way it carries its tail.” / “That’s what he said.” / “So,” said O’Reilly, “just before the buyer comes to look at the beast, the dealer sticks a clove of ginger up its rectum. Feagues the poor creature.” / The thought made Barry wince.
Instead of measuring time and life in snatching at rags, let us counsel together to disobstruct the sources of riches, and organise industry, domestic labours, agricultural, manufacturing, — all the labours that produce wealth.
Meanwhile, with the Olympics approaching, the Greek government has grown increasingly heavy-handed in its efforts to move the project forward.
In fact it's hardly surprising that plans for downloading it onto the Speccy were received with, erm, mirth to say the very least. I must admit that I myself thought something along the lines of R-Type? Oh yeah? Well, Spec-chums - let me tell you something: I've never been more wrong.
