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.

Well, you know, there are limits to the sacred claims of friendship.

At the age of eleven or thereabouts women acquire a poise and an ability to handle difficult situations which a man, if he is lucky, manages to achieve somewhere in the later seventies.

Never put anything on paper, my boy, and never trust a man with a small black moustache.

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.

He was white and shaken, like a dry martini.

She could not have gazed at him with a more rapturous intensity if she had been a small child and he a saucer of ice cream.