Someone in a crowd outside the barricaded chalet of the doomsdayers began a rocket-style countdown: “Five, four, three, two, one. …”
...the cemetery—which people of shattering wit like Sampson never tired of calling ‘the dead centre of town’...
So at twenty-five years old, I had never tried a single puff of weed. … At least I'd always have something to lord over my future children.
What was that, Will? I can't hear you over the sound of how bloody awesome and powerful I am!
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