A ball in the hand is worth the plums/gums dichotomy, says Thatcher from prison...

A review...

"Golly!" Trarquin said, scratching his testicles, wiping the slime off his calloused hands, hands so worn down from the continual use of sandpaper on his own privates that at times they wept tears much as Artemis blurted salty droplets of weaping when fleeing Hera. “Gosh! – terror alerts, and at the end of the day one can only take plastic nags on board – what about the orange, the twine, and the girly mags???”

“Waster,” replied God, sweeping roads as was his want…