“Dipshit.” “Asshat.” “Dickwad.” “Dicksack.”

Oh, hello there, Bob, how are you doing?

Cumin is native to the region from the eastern Mediterranean to India.

He might have flinched altogether from speaking if at this moment he had not seen Ampleforth, the hairy-eared poet, wandering limply round the room with a tray, looking for a place to sit down.