Sorta hazy. Think I'd just wrapped some story or another. Cliff was there. Called me king shit of fuck mountain. Anyway, it was funny.

Labour is hoping that the lovefest for their onetime nemesis will leave no lasting damage, that the issue will fade come polling day on 2 May.

Note the intrusion into British demotic (“me and Cheryl were having”) of the valley-girl quotative be, like.

Oure termes been so clergial and so queynte; I blowe the fir till that myn herte feynte