Having seen the way the streams on Dartmoor rise after heavy rain, I wouldn’t want to live in Rivendell. But then I wouldn’t want to live in Rivendell anyway; the elves are insufferable, spooky-eyed, spocky-eared vegetarian types who lounge around tootling sub-Enya folk tunes on their flutes and all vote for the Green Party, it is worse than Totnes, my deres.
I have many leather-bound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany.
Grundig blaupunkt luger frug Watusi snarf wazoo! Nixon dirksen nasahist Reboso boogaloo.
Ask me your questions, bridge keeper. I'm not afraid.