"Write? You don't seem to understand the position. Fifteen years ago, when I met Jimmy Duff and fell for his smooth city ways, I was a young, idealistic girl, all sentiment and romance. This sentiment and romance he blunted for ever with these foul hams of his. He used to take me out in the moonlight and tell me what gave them that nutty flavour. He would wait till the band was playing "Traumerei" and then describe the process of curing. And now, when after all these weary years I've a chance to get my own back, you tell me to write? Write indeed! I'm going to call at his office and look him in the eye and slap this ham down on his desk and watch him curl up at the edges."
(from Quick Service, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
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