Why don’t you get a haircut? You look like a chrysanthemum.
“Guk,” he said reservedly. A man has to answer snakes when they speak to him, but he is under no obligation to be sunny.
“Very good,” I said coldly. “In that case, tinkerty-tonk.” And I meant it to sting.
I like a man to be a clean, strong, upstanding Englishman who can look his gnu in the face and put an ounce of lead in it.
An old place like this…a historic old house like this…a real old-world chateau like this, full of interesting objects is – er – interesting to me. It interests me. I am interested in it. Most interested. It – er – interests me to – ah – potter around. I find it interesting.
I turned to Aunt Agatha, whose demeanour was now rather like that of one who, picking daisies on the railway, has just caught the down express on the small of the back.
This was a sinister, leering, Underworld sort of animal, the kind that would spit out of the side of its mouth for twopence.
…he uttered a stricken woofle, like a bulldog who had been refused cake.