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More from The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

It was a battered yellow Citro├źn 2CV which had had one careful owner but also three suicidally reckless ones.

You would probably not say that he was sleeping the sleep of the just, unless you meant the just asleep, but it was certainly the sleep of someone who was not fooling about when he climbed into bed at night and turned off the light.

Dennis Hutch had stepped up into the top seat when its founder had died of a lethal overdose of brick wall, taken while under the influence of a Ferrari and a bottle of tequila.

Thor was the God of Thunder and, frankly, acted like it.

The impossible often has a kind of integrity to it which the merely improbable lacks.