Sentence The Twohundredandthirtyninth
When Doubleday returned with the news that one Elphinrod Dalwhinnie, a tetchy quacksalver who lived under the eaves of the rickety tenement, had been winkled out after admitting discharging his night-soil pisspot over the High Street at just about the time Sir Parlane MacFarlane had been the victim of The Law of Unintended Consequences, and the as-yet unidentified 'Law of Gravity' - for Sir Isaac Newton was not yet even a twinkle in the eyes of his unconceived parents whose nuptials were still to occur in a hundred or more years' time - and offered up fulsome apologies for the indignity his carelessness had heaped upon the weel-kent philosopher and philanderer MacFarlane's head and dignity, and he in return had uncharacteristically dismissed his earlier fury and simply ordered Doubleday to give the charlatan a penny and return him to his garret – “but bring his doxy to me, I
feel the need for some gutter-snipe to service me this day, perhaps an odour of the excrement has entered my spleen and needs must be obeyed before I can move on to the more elevated delights befitting my station – like fucking that damned nun still residing in yon oubliette and contributing not one farthing nor payment in kind towards the costs of her board and lodging!”
When Doubleday returned with the news that one Elphinrod Dalwhinnie, a tetchy quacksalver who lived under the eaves of the rickety tenement, had been winkled out after admitting discharging his night-soil pisspot over the High Street at just about the time Sir Parlane MacFarlane had been the victim of The Law of Unintended Consequences, and the as-yet unidentified 'Law of Gravity' - for Sir Isaac Newton was not yet even a twinkle in the eyes of his unconceived parents whose nuptials were still to occur in a hundred or more years' time - and offered up fulsome apologies for the indignity his carelessness had heaped upon the weel-kent philosopher and philanderer MacFarlane's head and dignity, and he in return had uncharacteristically dismissed his earlier fury and simply ordered Doubleday to give the charlatan a penny and return him to his garret – “but bring his doxy to me, I
feel the need for some gutter-snipe to service me this day, perhaps an odour of the excrement has entered my spleen and needs must be obeyed before I can move on to the more elevated delights befitting my station – like fucking that damned nun still residing in yon oubliette and contributing not one farthing nor payment in kind towards the costs of her board and lodging!”
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