It’s time to split his portfolios up and give one to putative modern-day saint, Saint Greavsie of Television.
I often watch replays of so-called fouls, and to me it's almost as if one leg behaves badly independently of the brain, while the other leg just stands there looking on unable to assist.
I could only find one serious review, I tell her, and I read from that. The reviewer calls it ‘borderline imbecilic,’ with chapters on shopping, picnics, and T-shirts, which he says are delivered with a sense of shame.
I’ll lose my audience if I give them much more of the poor me. -You don’t want to sound like Meghan Markle, do you? Look how nauseating all that is.
He was hard to dislike Savage, for the spare Yo-Yo bars he always carried with him.
Over time, we may add more groundlings, so that the celebrity bottom feeder is forced to face an authentic slice of their real audience.
She’d been sat between us at dinner and had this sort of flaky skin, most of which stayed on the seat when she got up.
In a world which celebrates marriage at first sight, and the televised sharing of STDs between teenagers, this sounds like Kenneth Clarke's Civilisation to me.