Word: hooliganism
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...that went "you have twenty minutes to get the money, Angele, or the Venus Beauty Institute will burn!" Her impatience becomes endearing when directed at her impossible customers, like Madame Buisse, who struts around Paris in nothing but a trenchcoat which she removes whenever possible. When a young French hooligan solicits Marie (pretty, seeing the widower) for "the finishing touches," Angele bluntly shows him to the visually poetic door. "I speak to be heard," she replies to Marie's shock at her language. This is one of the lines i remember verbatim...
...Well, the time has come to revisit the Gwynesaurus. I think the last time I discussed the Boo Hoo Hooligan, I left you with this closing thought. "Do I think Gwyneth Paltrow is a terrible person? No. Do I think she's the devil? Absolutely." Let there be no doubt, however, that I not only hate Gwyneth Paltrow, but I hate the very idea of Gwyneth Paltrow. Every time I chance upon her pouty, fresh-faced visage, salon-tended hair and clothes that you just know she didn't pay for, I feel my blood start to boil...
...time to give the African continent a first opportunity to host the world's biggest sporting event, Mandela's men reckoned without the cunning of Franz Beckenbauer, legendary German playmaker and mastermind of its World Cup bid. Having artfully disposed of England's challenge on the grounds of its hooligan problem (even though his own legions give as good as they get when they clash with the Brits), Beckenbauer then worked the weaknesses in his key adversary's lineup. Although South Africa thought it had the votes necessary to push its bid over the top, Germany managed to woo four...
...promise of 2010, although it's hard to see what might change in South Africa over the next four years to make soccer's disproportionately European powers-that-be more amenable. Given the choice, they prefer to play the game on home - or at least familiar - ground, hooligan hordes...
...here: his playful metrical dexterity, his unflinching celebration both of beauty and of its transience. The subject of love crops up repeatedly in the book's 60 lyrics, but the Boss Cupid of the title is not the chubby winged cherub of popular lore. He is something of a hooligan, "devious master of our bodies," wreaker of joy and havoc: "Love makes the cuckoo heave its foster-siblings/Out of the nest, to spatter on the ground." Pleasure is the other side of loss. In "American Boy" Gunn writes, "Expertly you know how to maintain me/At the exact degree/of hunger...