The margins of this blog are too small to contain the foam and fluster of feelings inspired by this story on the public pronouncements of the proprietor of a newspaper too right-wing even for me. However, I thought that it might be fun to circulate it so that it could induce conniptions seizures outrage in the heart of Disgusted of Helsinki Sydney Wiltshire Kingston upon Thames Vancouver other (delete as applicable).
As for me, I shall continue to wear my green- lurex-boob-tube-and-grass-skirt-combo while being flagellated with a wet suit full of lumpy custard by Mrs Gee, who will of course be dressed as an SS Kommandant in fishnet stockings, and all the while being filmed, and looking forward to watching the video later, accompanied by a pumpin’ Barry White soundtrack, and fantasizing that it was Richard P Grant wielding the wetsuit all along. Unconventional, for sure, but, really, what’s not to like? Oh yes, and Bob’s cat.
Dacre sounds upset because he didn’t get invited.
Blah blah consenting adults blah blah. It really shouldn’t be necessary to say that any more.
The whole Dacre line is such hypocrisy. One day people like that’ll be hoisted by his own … er … whatever it is. Petard. That’s what.
‘with’.
A petard is a small bomb. ‘On’ makes no sense, ‘by’ so close to ‘hoist’ implies it’s something attached to him.
‘By’, ‘with’ and ‘from’ all take the ablative case, Richard.
You might be technically correct but you’re no poet.