Michelle’s Reviews > Strong Poison > Status Update

"But he was a very fine writer," protested Mrs. Featherstone, a lady in her thirties, whose violently compressed figure suggested that she was engaged in a perpetual struggle to compute her weight in terms of the first syllables of her name rather than the last.

"No thanks," as Wimsey advanced to carry the kettle, "I'm quite capable of carrying 6 pints of water."
"Crushed again!" said Wimsey.
"Eiluned disapproves of conventional courtesies between the sexes," said Marjorie.
"Very well," replied Wimsey, amiably. "I will adopt an attitude of passive decoration."

Oh yes--nature will have her revenge. They will slink away from the Government Communal Games to play solitaire in catacombs over a bowl of unsterilized skim-milk.

And I shall wag my head and display my up-to-date dentures and say, 'Ah, ha! They don't have the fun we used to have in my younger days, the poor, well-regulated creatures!'

There won't be any night-clubs then for you to creep into, if they're as disciplined as all that.

and they'll say, 'Look, darling! That's the wicked Lord Peter, celebrated for never having spoken a reasonable word for the last 96 years. He was the only aristocrat will skip the guillotine in the revolution of 1960. We keep them as a pet for the children.'

I'm afraid I'm being damned dull. Oxygen starvation, probably. D'you mind if we have the window down a bit? That's better. Give me a good food and a little air to breathe and I will caper, goat like, to a dishonorable old age. People will point me out, as I creep, bald and yellow and supported by discreet corsetry, into the night-clubs of my great grandchildren,