дальнейший брайсон

We've been hearing this warped reasoning for so long about so many things that it has become received wisdom, but when you think about it for even a nanosecond it is perfectly obvious that most worthwhile things don't begin to pay for themselves. If you followed this absurd logic any distance at all, you would have to get rid of traffic lights, laybys, schools, drains, national parks, museums, universities, old people and much else besides. So why on earth should something as useful as a railway line, which is generally much more agreeable than old people, and certainly less inclined to bitch and twitter, have to demonstrate even the tiniest measure of economic viability to ensure its continued existence? This is a line of thinking that must be abandoned at once.

Bill Bryson. Notes from a small Island

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женщина без шеи, зато с высокой прической

у нас есть точка на трасссе

точки общественного точения

роскошно

мисс торпедо

дальнейший брайсон

At length, I found my way over the river and back into the gleaming centre. I had a look at George Square, which is to my mind the handsomest in Britain, and then trudged uphill to Sauchiehall Street, where I remembered my favourite Glasgow joke. (Also my only Glasgow joke.) It's not a very good one, but I like it. A policeman collars a thief at the corner of Sauchiehall and Dalhousie, then drags him by the hair for a hundred yards to Rose Street to book him.
'Oi, why'd ye do tha'?' asks the aggrieved culprit, rubbing his head.
'Because I can spell Rose Street, ye thieving cunt,' says the policeman.

Bill Bryson. Notes from a Small Island