Barry Beelzebub. I love his columns. He’s probably wildly non-PC, but he’s very funny. I’ve agreed with quite a few of his rants.
On the subject of Bonfire Night fireworks:
“I tell you, if foxes ever discover sparklers (and I wouldn’t put it past the devious little buggers) there won’t be any need for Mr Blah to ban fox-hunting. There won’t be a hound in the country that’ll go near them. There’ll be gangs of urban foxes hanging around on street corners drinking alcopops, harassing pensioners, tying fireworks to cats and robbing the Kentucky Fried Chicken shop before you know it.”
And from The Black Saint, which I just discovered:
“Are you checking someone out?” Lora had been on enough bad dates to know when this was taking place.
“Oh, just that girl over there. She probably goes to Columbia.” The diner was on the Columbia University campus.
Lora craned her neck to inspect the objection of Kevin’s interest. She shrugged. “She can’t be more than nineteen. This is the last year you could go out with someone that age without it seeming icky.”
Kevin had just turned twenty-three.
“You should get her now,” Lora advised, “before she starts believing stupid things. She’ll take a women’s studies course next semester and discover that being fat in high school somehow means she’s suffered more than African slaves. She’ll be intolerable from that point on.”