And to all others in this story profound shooms of lip music brrrrrr. And they can kiss my sharries.

Eat this sweetish segment or spit it out. You are free.

The downtrodden are the great creators of slang.

Every dogma has its day.

The ideal reader of my novels is a lapsed Catholic and failed musician, short-sighted, colour-blind, auditorily biased, who has read the books that I have read.

The next morning I woke up at oh eight oh oh hours, my brothers, and as I still felt shagged and fagged and fashed and bashed and my glazzies were stuck together real horrorshow with sleepglue, I thought I would not go to school.

I wrote much because I was paid little. I had no great desire to leave a literary name behind me.