"He gets ratted and relieves himself on the plastic blind lad we have out front," Ms. Marley, 71, explained as we dabbed our face dry. "The poor soul won't accept help but he only has his pension to go on so this small increase is enough to give him at least one sober day out of seven. Hopefully Sunday, so he stops coming to church bladdered yelling 'yer bastads the lottaya!' before pouring the communion wine into a carrier bag in his pocket then throwing the wafers at Henrietta Jones, 82, the village trollop."
In other news, Mass Effect 2 is still lovely. I have most of my team together and am now getting to know them all a little better, the poor dears and broken hearts.