He's a foreign-looking guy with thinnish black hair and a meaty sort of pan.

I been to see 'im. Not pretty. Ward sister tell me 'e'll be alright but not for a while yet. Concussion. Bloody 'ell! Lucky 'e wasn't killed, lump of lead like that. Lucky for you too, cocker...

A few lousy days at Camp Minnehaha spent extracting oar splinters from your palms and taking group lanyard lessons under the full noonday sun.

The cheap entertainment of the “tear-throat” Red Bull plays, with their battles, clowns, and fireworks, has been sharply contrasted with the innovative, “literary” dramatic styles of the hall-playhouses, which favored witplay over swordplay[…]