Well, it's just that, you see, uh, I fight in clubs, you know, and uh, I'm really a ham-and-egger. This guy, he's the best, and uh, it wouldn't be such a good fight.
To these some add Corinths plump’d in Milk, or boil’d therein, Sugar, Spice at Discretion, and stirring it all together over the Fire, bake it in a Tart-Pan.
One can't escape the huge nuclear facility at Sellafield (supplier of much of the line's remaining freight traffic), or miss the wild shingle beaches with exposed and precarious bungalows sandwiched between the railway and the shore at Braystones.
My misquotation of Hamlet during the Shakespeare lecture brought laughs. I wish I'd done it on purpose.
