Sir, – 363. The ignorant self-opinionated sod-minded suet-brained ham-faced mealy-mouthed streptococcus-ridden gang of natural gobdaws! (Myles na gCopaleen on the plain people of Ireland). – Yours, etc,
Sir, – 364. Sure ’tis only aul’ shlop, what good would it be to a workin’ man? (Recalled by my mother – now deceased – after a soup cookery demonstration in a technical school night-class in the 1940s) 365. He hasn’t hands to scratch himself (From my deceased fiance). 366. There’s no use being an idiot unless you can show it. (From my deceased mother). 367. I hope hell is her summerhouse. 368. I’ll give you a slap that the quarter of it will do ya! (From my childhood days). – Yours, etc,