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.
The Longfellow furrowed a brow and looked at him quizzically, ‘I mean it’s crap,’ said Cum-Bot.
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.
Over time, we may add more groundlings, so that the celebrity bottom feeder is forced to face an authentic slice of their real audience.