Sentence The Twohundredandthirtythird
As she stood beside the Hub Panda, waiting for Farmer Farmer to climb into his enormous black and chrome 4 Wheel Drive Gentlemen Farmers' vehicle of choice, the hawk-like WPC Isa Urquhart noted him speaking on his mobile – and as she climbed into the police car, she remarked to her Trainee WPC Gertie Mountcastle: “I bet he's calling the Milk Maids or someone at The Institute, I told him not to tell anyone we were coming to the Milking Parlour!” and Gertie's eyes shone: “do you suppose he's married?” she asked, and Isa shot her a glance: “if he is, I pity the poor woman, he's so fastuous and a dyed-in-the-wool chauvinist, and probably the opposite of uxurious, whatever that is. . .” and Gertie piped up: “how about 'mulish'? I know it isn't specifically descriptive of a husband's unreasonableness towards his wife, but he does look like a mule – oops, I shouldn't pass judgement on people, should I?” she had blushed to her roots and with her tummy feeling like a whirlpool was on the verge of hyperventilating, not to mention tears, so Isa soothingly replied: “this car isn't wired for sound, Gertie, and what is said between a Trainee and her Mentor, is strictly between ourselves, unless, of course, you are confessing to a criminal act or the intention to commit one – you aren't, are you?” and Gertie shook her head so violently her Trainee WPC Standard Issue Cap fell off over her eyes and she stamped on the brakes so suddenly that the car squealed to a Starsky and Hutch stop which flung gravel over Farmer Farmer's Gentlemen Farmers' Pink Wellies, and Isa murmured, “sweetly done, Gertie, that's put him on the back foot,” and patted Gertie's thigh reassuringly, “and I do believe those strapping young ladies are the Milk Maids!”
As she stood beside the Hub Panda, waiting for Farmer Farmer to climb into his enormous black and chrome 4 Wheel Drive Gentlemen Farmers' vehicle of choice, the hawk-like WPC Isa Urquhart noted him speaking on his mobile – and as she climbed into the police car, she remarked to her Trainee WPC Gertie Mountcastle: “I bet he's calling the Milk Maids or someone at The Institute, I told him not to tell anyone we were coming to the Milking Parlour!” and Gertie's eyes shone: “do you suppose he's married?” she asked, and Isa shot her a glance: “if he is, I pity the poor woman, he's so fastuous and a dyed-in-the-wool chauvinist, and probably the opposite of uxurious, whatever that is. . .” and Gertie piped up: “how about 'mulish'? I know it isn't specifically descriptive of a husband's unreasonableness towards his wife, but he does look like a mule – oops, I shouldn't pass judgement on people, should I?” she had blushed to her roots and with her tummy feeling like a whirlpool was on the verge of hyperventilating, not to mention tears, so Isa soothingly replied: “this car isn't wired for sound, Gertie, and what is said between a Trainee and her Mentor, is strictly between ourselves, unless, of course, you are confessing to a criminal act or the intention to commit one – you aren't, are you?” and Gertie shook her head so violently her Trainee WPC Standard Issue Cap fell off over her eyes and she stamped on the brakes so suddenly that the car squealed to a Starsky and Hutch stop which flung gravel over Farmer Farmer's Gentlemen Farmers' Pink Wellies, and Isa murmured, “sweetly done, Gertie, that's put him on the back foot,” and patted Gertie's thigh reassuringly, “and I do believe those strapping young ladies are the Milk Maids!”
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