lloping t’s funny t toned on to a c it’s one of tages of being fat t you can fit into almost any society. Besides  on common ground o dirty stories. t, t modern.  it, alells a story in a veiled kind of imes  some Latin poet and translate a smutty r to your imagination, or s about te lives of t  on in temples of Aso , teous  pograpings some would make your hair curl.

    ’s often done me a lot of good to go and alk eous. But tonig didn’t seem to. My mind ill running on t  as I’d done  Book Club lecturer, I didn’t exactly listen to o t eous’s didn’t. It oo peaceful, too Oxfordy. Finally, whing, I chipped in and said:

    ‘tell me, Porteous, ler?’

    Old Porteous  on t  took  of h.

    ‘ler? t think of him.’

    ‘But trouble is o bloody  him before he’s finished.’

    Old Porteous s at t like, t’s part of o be s smoke.

    ‘I see no reason for paying any attention to urer. these people come and go. Ephemeral, purely ephemeral.’

    I’m not certain  I stick to my point:

    ‘I t it . So’s Joe Stalin. t like t for t. ter somete ne’s never been heard of before.’

    ‘My dear fellohe sun.’

    Of course t’s a favourite saying of old Porteous’s.  ence of anytell  anyt’s  exactly tells you t te, or Mycenae, or ried to explain to  I’d felt uring and time t’s coming, but  listen. Merely repeated t t of t some Greek tyrant back in tainly migler’s ther.

    t  on for a bit. All day I’d been ing to talk to somebody about t’s funny. I’m not a fool, but I