Bravest of the brave, Sir Robin. I don't wanna talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper! I'm thirty-seven. He buggered off. Yes! The swallow may fly south with the sun or the house martin or the plover may seek warmer climes in winter, yet these are not strangers to our land? Oh! Well, simple! They'd just use a strand of creeper! Burn her! Burn! Burn her! Burn her! If... she... weighs... the same as a duck,... she's made of wood.