“Turkish baths reduce belly fat,” Tom said abstemiously.
“I voted for Tarquin Fin-tim-lin-bin-whin-bim-lim-bus-stop-f’tang-f’tang-olé-biscuitbarrel,” Tom said superciliously.
“Only an idiot would spell ‘Breath Savers’ with a ‘w’!” Tom said vehemently.
“Perfect, imperfect, past historic, future… who cares?” Tom said tensely.
“For hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee!” Tom wailed.
“Yes, I have a card of the same rank,” Tom snapped.
“It’s the ratio of the opposite side to the hypotenuse,” Tom signed.
“Male bees… male bees… male bees…” Tom droned.
“It’s your birthday tomorrow, son. You won’t be eight any more,” said Tom benignly.