Society Has Quite Forsaken All Her Wicked

Deerstalking Would Be A Very Fine Sport If Only The Deer Had Guns.

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.

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

The Law Is The True Embodiment Of Everything That's Excellent; It Has No Kind Of Fault Or Flaw And I, My Lords, Embody The Law.

Bow, Bow, Ye Lower Middle Classes! Bow, Bow, Ye Tradesmen, Bow, Ye Masses!