Word: foul
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Grandma carried Menen's confusion a step further by explaining why no decent Hindu could want to become a Briton. The British were so foul and insensitive a race that they never bathed more than once a day, and thought nothing of actually sitting in their dirty bathwater. Lewdness and promiscuity they accounted virtues, for which reason they permitted their children to marry only when they were long past the age of chastity. They were so shameless that instead of retiring to a dark corner to eat, they engorged grossly at a public table, where all & sundry might witness...
...shoeshine? You want change-ee money, sah-jint? You want nice girl, maybe? Hey, sah-jint, you want numbahone nice virgin girl?" Sometimes they snatched a pen or wallet from his pocket and scampered off down an ill-smelling alley. Sometimes the crippled ones, scabrous and foul with dirt, hunched themselves into his path and clawed frantically at his trouser leg. "Money, skoshi money, little money! Three days, eat have-a-no, sah-jint...
...headlong amateur sailor who combined prayer and oratory with his seamanship, he sailed his ketch Nona strenuously and recklessly round the dangerous coasts of Great Britain in a good deal of foul weather, until he was an old man. His wife, an American, had died in 1914; his eldest son Louis was killed in World War I. When his youngest son, Peter, lost his life in World War II, Belloc gave up letters. He was already an old man. He lived on in his Sussex farmhouse, a short, stout figure, red of face, wearing a collar several times too large...
...party members heard Nikolai Mikhailov, Moscow district party leader, read out the communiques of the Plenum and the Presidium. One of Communism's great wolves had fallen, and the lesser wolves were tearing at his carcass. Reported Tass: "Speakers at the meeting spoke in wrathful indignation of the foul enemy of the party and the Soviet people-the international imperialist agent Beria," and the audience cheered...
...fall is a labyrinth, gashed by echoing crevasses where a cathedral spire might be lost, crisscrossed by sharp seracs (ice towers) that no man can scale. In the deepest ice corridors, the air is foul and weakening; often as the climbers moved, ice blocks the size of houses vanished into chasms that yawned at their feet. Always, there was snow...