All Bayonets Are Bad.

Life's Perhaps The Only Riddle That We Shrink From Giving Up.

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.

A Policeman's Lot Is Not A Happy One

Though I'm Anything But Clever, I Could Talk Like That Forever.