Word: wenched
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...course, is Topic A, and a new recording on the subject is Live with Love, starring British Psychologist Keith Cammeron, soon to be released in the U.S. On the album jacket there is a woodland scene that includes one full-breasted wench, two nuzzling birds and three enormous bees. Inside is the sort of sex-education lecture that would weight the eyelids of a twelve-year-old ("Let's begin with the egg..."), redeemed now and then by snippets of fascinating information, such as the fact that the male testicle, in Cammeron's words, is actually "a mass...
...Claude Akins), but when the girl laughs him off as a "fat old fool,'' the mother is only too ready to offer him consolation. In the end, two of the daughter's boy friends fight, and one of them is killed. Stricken with guilt, the wench cries out: "Oh Papa! It's all my fault!'' It isn't, though. Hovelist Erskine Caldwell's breast-selling book, on which the film is based, negotiates such a ruttish stretch of his notorious Tobacco Road that anybody who tries to follow him is sure...
...Yacky Doo. Pettishly she steals the priceless Burns manuscript, then gets drunk and loses it-or so it appears. Soon, throughout Edinburgh, copies of the verses are falling like fig leaves. The barometer of conventional morality falls dangerously too. Everyone burns but few marry; Arbuthnot himself corners a young wench in his office, and clerks on the floor below watch anxiously as plaster flakes off the ceiling...
...remark calls up many an obligatory movie scene about the crucial creative moment in the lives of great artists (Wench: "What's troubling you, Will?" Shakespeare: "Oh, nothing, I'm just a little sicklied o'er ... I think I shall go home and write Hamlet"). But in this instance, the offhand remark is real; it was set down by James Boswell in his journal on March...
...ambitions in every respect. His pseudo-Congreve is often pretty good--it is certainly one of the chief pleasures the play provides--but it often sounds self-conscious and sometimes resembles a parody of a bad historical novel. (A line like, "By gad, sir, she's as pretty a wench as ever I bedded!" seems right out of Forever Under.) Moreover, in his attempt to expand the scope of the eighteenth-century style to accommodate his expanded purpose, he resorts to frequent bursts of the stiffest, most intolerably pretentious sort of "fine writing...