Seems like I heard a whippoorwill callinʼ, and I thought to myself, Go on away from here, weʼll whip ole Will when we find him.

Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald pate of Father Time himself.

Okay, wel-, I’ll tell you where it stops: somewhere! Anytime someone asks, “Where does it stop?”, the answer is always fucking somewhere! You might let your kid have Twizzlers, but not inject black tar heroin! You d-You don’t just go, “Well, after the Twizzlers, where does it stop?”!

The Keswick-Carlisle, Bury-Rawtenstall, Watford-Croxley Green and Haltwhistle-Alston services had run out of friends, but the hit-listed Oldham-Rochdale and Inverness-Kyle of Lochalsh lines would benefit from a change of heart.