Whenever I have that sad, depressed feeling, I go out and kill a policeman.

I am told by those who know that there are six varieties of hangover-the Broken Compass, the Sewing Machine, the Comet, the Atomic, the Cement Mixer and the Gremlin Boogie, and his manner suggested that he had got them all.

The spine, and I do not attempt to conceal the fact, had become soluble, in the last degree.

I started violently, as if some unseen hand had goosed me.

Has anybody ever seen a dramatic critic in the daytime? Of course not. They come out after dark, up to no good.

I marmaladed a slice of toast with something of a flourish and I don't suppose I have ever come much closer to saying 'Tra la la' as I did the lathering for I was feeling in mid season form this morning.

Employers are like horses — they require management.