Larger context for LACK in Corpus USbrown_UKbncw/UK_bncw.txt
Pity it was actually the Norwegians.
I remembered a joke about Kissinger ("no; fucking her.") and found myself listening to Gav and Janice.
They were still at that stage of their coital symphony where only the brass section was engaged, as the old metal bed creaked to and fro.
The wind section — essentially vox humana — would join in later.
I shook my head and bent back to my work, but every now and again, as I was writing or just thinking, a niggling little side-track thought would distract me, and I'd find myself remembering Janice's words, and wondering what exactly Uncle Rory might have hidden within his later work (if he really had hidden anything).
Not, of course, that there was much point in me wondering about it.
For about the hundredth time, I cursed whatever kleptomaniac curmudgeon had walked off the train with my bag.
May the scarf unravel and do an Isadora Duncan on the wretch.