Life's A Pudding Full Of Plums.

Is Life A Boon? If So, It Must Befall That Death, Whene'er He Call, Must Call Too Soon.

To Sit In Solemn Silence On A Dull, Dark Dock In A Pestilential Prison With A Life-long Lock Awaiting The Sensation Of A Short, Sharp Shock From A Cheap And Chippy Chopper On A Big, Black Block.

Merely Corroborative Detail, Intended To Give Artistic Verisimilitude To An Otherwise Bald And Unconvincing Narrative.

I Am A Child Of Nature, And Take After My Mother.

Oh, Wouldn't The World Seem Dull And Flat With Nothing Whatever To Grumble At?