Boxer could not get beyond the letter D. He would trace out A, B, C, D, in the dust with his great hoof […]

So I went and laid down on the grass. While laying there I piped a reeler whom I knew. He had a nark (a policeman's spy) with him. So I went and looked about for my two pals, and told them to look out for F. and his nark.

Suddenly, in 1988, a vote was taken to legalise real beer in a year's time, and on 1 March 1989 the amber fluid finally flowed again.

They quickly weary of this brief hebdomadal Sabbath here, yet they long for that etermal one; they dream of it, they talk about it, they think they think they are going to enjoy it ...