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Updated: June 13, 2025
And I mean now t' keep on till I stop you. No more of your owl-starin' fur me! Take it agen, you stinkin' starin' owl. So! An' so! An' so!" He fairly raised himself up in the berth as he rushed out his words, and at the same time thrust savagely with his right hand as though he had a knife in it. For a minute or more he kept his position, cursing with a strong voice and thrusting all the time.
"And what sort of man is he?" asked Evatt, bringing his glass from the small table and taking his seat among the rest. "He 's as hot-tempered an' high an' mighty as King George hisself," cried one of the drinkers. "But I guess his stinkin' pride will come down a little afore the committee of Brunswick 's through with him."
He started coughing suddenly and seemed unable to stop. At last he said weakly, in a thin little voice between coughs: "Well, here I am. There ain't nothing to do about it." "Democracy.... That's democracy, ain't it: we eat stinkin' goolash an' that there fat 'Y' woman goes out with Colonels eatin' chawklate soufflay.... Poifect democracy!... But I tell you what: it don't do to be the goat."
A bloomin', stinkin', first-class imposyshun but it don't tyke me in. Not it." Jimmy kept still. Donkin put his hands in his pockets, and in one slouching stride came up to the bunk. "I talk what's the odds. They ain't men 'ere sheep they are. A driven lot of sheep. I 'old you up... Vy not? You're well orf." "I am... I don't say anything about that...." "Well. Let 'em see it.
Stinky stood motionless, his wits scattered by this sudden change the stillness of his enemy, who a moment ago was beating him down with murderous fists. "'Ere's the johns," cried someone. "Come on, Liz," cried Stinky, and turned to run. "Cum with yous, yer great 'ulkin', stinkin' coward," cried Pinkey, her face crimson with passion, "yer'll be lucky if y'ain't hung fer murder."
That's what I want to know me, that's cooked for you, an' washed your stinkin' clothes, and fixed your socks, an' sat up nights with your brats when they was ailin'. Look at that!" She thrust out a shapeless, swollen foot, encased in a monstrous, untended shoe, the dry, raw leather of which showed white on the edges of bulging cracks. "Look at that! That's what I say. Look at that!"
Certainly with a week's growth of black whiskers upon their jaws they were fit now to play stage brigands without further make-up. "Wot a bloomin', stinkin', rotten country!" came, two rows back from where I stood, a Cockney voice uplifted to the leaky skies. "There ain't nothin' to eat in it, and there ain't nothin' to drink in it, too."
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