To be on foot in the United States is only immoral, not illegal. — Kyril Bonfiglioli

The coffee having arrived (how hard it is to write without the ablative absolute!) we guzzled genteelly for a while...

"No no, Jock…we're going to push him out of a window. Your bedroom window, I think. Yes, and we'll undress him first and say that he was making advances to you and jumped out of the window in a frenzy of thwarted love."

"I say, Charlie, really, what a filthy rotten idea; I mean, think of my wife."

"I never think of policemen's wives, their beauty maddens me like wine."

He had made one mistake in an otherwise flawless performance: he hadn't told me his name. Have you ever exchanged three words with an American without being told his name?