Hasluck tells the story at a rapid pace and with racy charm. There is some refreshingly Australian talking from the hip. When a company's being milked, you don't look for a bucket under its tits. You look up its arse.
When a company's being milked, you don't look for a bucket under its tits. You look up its arse.
beneath them also flowered, like some immense coloured crystal, a semicircle of lake water, candent and faithful as a magic lantern to the startled images of fish scattering and reforming with movements of surprise, curiosity, perhaps even pleasure.
Those Rattels are somewhat like the chape of a Rapier, but lesse, which they take from the taile of a snake.
Add those topless pictures of him on the beach that we published in Now last week to the mix, and I think I'm starting to get where all you women who want to be Cumberbatched are coming from...
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