Oh, the ongoing love affair between hair and mouths. Hair always goes for the mouth. The mouth opens, and hair says, "I'm going in! I'm going in!" like a manic cave diver.

Something about this boat screamed, "I am a very popular model in the world's oil-bearing regions. I cost more than your soul!

Irony is the word I forget the meaning of immediately after I look it up, but I kind of feel like I live in a constant state of it.

What are you?" I asked. "I'm the Ghost of the Night Before Exams." "And how long did it take you to come up with that?" Jazza asked. "I'm a busy man," he replied.

Proximity doesn't breed familiarity.

I had always assumed the weekend was a holy tradition, respected by good people everywhere. Not so at Wexford.

Walk really, really carefully. It's not complicated, but if you mess up, you'll die, so pay attention.