'A muddling and a swipey
old child,' said Miss Wren, rating him with great severity, 'fit for nothing but to be preserved in the liquor that destroys him, and put in a great glass bottle as a sight for other swipey
children of his own pattern,--if he has no consideration for his liver, has he none for his mother?'
I think you need one of those really swanky, swipey
smart phones to really get into the Twitter thing but I plan to do that any day now...