Salisbury: It is apparent foul-play; and ’tis shame / That greatness should so grossly offer it: / So thrive it in your game! and so, farewell.
While many men in the crowd admired the singers’ hair, Miguel Estevez Figueredo stood by a red leather wall in the back of the club, speaking over the din and ignoring the repeated brushes of pleathered shoulders as fans pushed toward the stage.
He's blagged his way into many a party.
I was doing a bit of yak shaving this morning, and it looks like it might have paid off.
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