Jury's still out on that boy.
Pottering around San Luca today, Sam at my heels, the stinging slave memories rearing up from every bush and branch, I found myself humming the evocative Rafferty song.
Keeping the flame alive is the best revenge.
I haven't even met the blackguards who'll first partner my babies into matrimony, and explode
"Say whut! Yer old man was such a frogging wimp he couldn't even keep safe his most precious possessions six feet from his own bedside, under his own roof?"