Make Them Laugh, Make Them Cry, Make

Every Idiot Who Goes About With A 'merry Christmas' On His Lips Should Be Boiled With His Own Pudding, And Buried With A Stake Of Holly Through His Heart.

He Lived In Chambers That Had Once Belonged To His Deceased Partner. They Were A Gloomy Suite Of Rooms, In A Lowering Pile Of Building Up A Yard, Where It Had So Little Business To Be, That One Could Scarcely Help Fancying It Must Have Run There When It Was A Young House, Playing At Hide-and-seek With Other Houses, And Forgotten The Way Out Again.

Friendless I Can Never Be, For All Mankind Are My Kindred, And I Am On Ill Terms With No One Member Of My Great Family.

The Nephew Revenges Himself For This, By Holding His Breath And Terrifying His Kinswoman With The Dread Belief That He Has Made Up His Mind To Burst. Regardless Of Whispers And Shakes, He Swells And Becomes Discoloured, And Yet Again Swells And Becomes Discoloured, Until The Aunt Can Bear It No Longer, But Leads Him Out, With No Visible Neck, And With His Eyes Going Before Him Like A Prawn's.

Dumb As A Drum Vith A Hole In It, Sir.