Now that is thirsty!

I should probably have shuddered even more than I did, had there not begun to steal into my consciousness at this juncture a rummy sensation which I could not at first analyse. Then I got onto it. It was suddenly borne in upon me that I was dying of thirst. What with the warmth of the day and the fact that I had so recently been taking vigorous outdoor exercise, the epiglottis seemed to have become composed of sandpaper. Already I was gasping painfully like a stranded fish, and it seemed to me that if I didn't climb outside something moist in about half a jiffy, I should expire in dreadful agonies.

(from Laughing Gas, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)



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