Where's The Fun Without A Bit Of

Pagford, Which By Night Was No More Than A Cluster Of Twinkling Lights In A Dark Hollow Far Below, Was Emerging Into Chilly Sunlight.

You Never Get It Right, You People, Do You? Either We've Got Fudge, Pretending Everything's Lovely While People Get Murdered Right Under His Nose, Or We've Got You, Chucking The Wrong People Into Jail And Trying To Pretend You've Got 'the Chosen One' Working For You!

Everythin' Seems Ter Happen Ter You, Doesn' It?

He Might Have Crawled Up Into The Airing Cupboard And Died, But I Mustn't Get My Hopes Up.

Montague's Just Been Found In A Toilet, Sir.