Sentence The Fivehundredandtwentynineth 

This was no skylarking – he knew that; he had been roughly treated and then pitched into the sea and that had been horrific, for he knew that he was handcuffed behind his back so he would be unable to swim; he kicked with his feet, but as his clothes and shoes became heavy with water he found it harder to keep his face above the surface; he couldn't avoid swallowing the seawater that entered his mouth and he began to see visions – of his past life, of his deeds and misdeeds, of the girls with mosquito-bite breasts that still had a boyish frame, they were his favourites, until they reached puberty, then he discarded them, as he had now, suddenly, inexplicably been discarded; this did not give him any empathy, any realisation of the cruel way he had used and abused the young girls and boys he enjoyed, it just filled him with a cold, dead feeling, that he would never again enjoy a good fuck with a ten or eleven-year-old; he swallowed more water and an empyreal glow seemed to surround him, as if he was floating – not just beneath the surface of the Irish Sea, but somewhere in outer space, among the stars and galaxies; his mind raced, but he had no words to describe what he felt or saw, and he was aware of a kind of amphiboly, when phrases seemed confusing, the words themselves alright, but their sequence sufficiently strange for him to struggle to grasp their meaning, as in the German language, when the parts of speech as he remembered from his school-days were in the wrong order: and now it was his Form Master's voice, "there are eight accepted parts of speech – nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, pronouns, conjunctions, prepositions and interjections, but we will add one more type: articles; a noun is a naming word," and the explanation of the correct sequence, followed by "but let us see it contrasted with the same sentence translated, as it were, into the Germanic construction but still in English," and the voice was changing, changing into something accented, guttural, sounding Germanic itself: "why here you are comen," was it a question or a statement? he now struggled to open his eyes in the stinging salt water, but when he did, he found himself in a simply furnished room, rather dingy, and not unlike the rooms he kept his playthings in; he realised he was no longer handcuffed, and was not floating, but lying on a bed, quite dry! even the clothes he had been wearing for the golf match with Trumpington and which he still had on were dry, and a sad-eyed, moon-faced man was leaning over him and Elginbrod thought the man looked

vaguely familiar, had he not been in The Maltese Falcon or another of those black-and-white crime movies with a big fat villain, Sidney Greenstreet? yes, Peter Lorre, this man could be his brother, maybe his son, surely not Lorre himself, surely he's long dead isn't he?