He was quite a bammy Glasgow guy who had hit on the idea of playing a Tolkienesque character who could turn things to mud with his magical finger.

Bravo Six, say again, over.

My father started rubbing and rubbing on Mittens, scruffying her fur the wrong way, and she mewled her protests.

When once a demand for broad cloths is created, they will be open to the conviction that it will be to their advantage to exchange the doombas for fleeced sheep and hair of very trifling value for wool.