A bigtime reporter, wearing a string-tie and knowing the closing-time
of every pub in Kensington, and who sits at a lavish writing-table,
knows all about speaking-trumpets, believe me.
Dog-tired after a jogtrot round Orpington, this ragtag pig-tailed loser still has the strength to get out his wedding-tackle and give Mrs. Millington a seeing-to, without needing breathing-time.
Dive full-length in your Wellingtons, get out the measuring-tape and
curling-tongs, and it Spring-time in Washington.
His long-term goals are to avoid getting parking-tickets, winning at
vingt-et-un, and being the first Bog-trotter elected to the Lagthing.