"So far, the course charted by Mr. Cameron and his deputy prime minister, Mr. Clegg, remains largely visionary...The main hallmark of the coalition’s program is a plan to halve the annual budget deficit of $235 billion within five years, and to achieve that by across-the-board cuts in almost all government ministries. All the departments involved have been told to prepare a plan for cuts as high as 40 percent."
"Jim Hacker is meeting with his department's expenditure committee. They cannot find any ways of cutting expenditures, except for overseas students that will start paying full tuition. After the meeting is over Bernard Woolley reminds the Minister that he still needs to approve the department's honours recommendations. Jim Hacker asks in despair how he can make civil servants want economies as much as they want honours. Then Bernard proposes only to award the honours to those civil servants that have cut their budgets by 5%."
I recently read The Mabinogion, a collection of Welsh legends from the 12th through 15th centuries recommended to me by Alexis, my favorite medievalist. The book's first tale includes a description of a game that was apparently quite popular at one time. In the story, a prince named Pwyll captures his enemy Gwawl in a magic bag:
As each of Pwyll's men entered, he struck the bag a blow and asked, 'What's in here?'
'A badger,' the others said.
This is how they played: each one would strike the bag a blow either with his foot or with a stick; and that is how they played with the bag. Each one as he entered would ask, 'So what game are you playing?' 'Badger in the Bag', the others would say. And that was the first time that Badger in the Bag was played.
The translator Sioned Davies's footnote doesn't elaborate too much on the rules, explaining it only as "a game which involves tying a man in a bag or sack, then beating and kicking him."
I think we've found the perfect winter sport to play when my summer buck buck league is in its offseason.
We performed an experiment to figure out the solution to this age-old question at my cookout this Fourth of July. The results are below.
So, in conclusion, it's simply a matter of personal preference.
"-But ouf! So much esprit has left us quite
Parched for a double shot of corps."
"Upstairs, DJ's already at the simmer
Phoning the company. He gets one pair
Of words wrong—means to say "kalorifér"
(Furnace) but out comes "kalokéri" (summer):
Our summer doesn't work, he keeps complaining
While, outside, cats and dogs just keep on raining."
- James Merrill, The Changing Light at Sandover
(Yeah, the first one's not really a couplet. So sue me!)