Sometimes I have inconsiderately begun to speak, when my occupant, lolling back
in my arms, was inclined to take an after-dinner nap.
Thus far for sport." He dropped one hand on his sword-hilt and his eye wandered to Dirkovitch lolling back
in his chair.
'Pyke,' said Sir Mulberry, taking out his toothpick and lolling back
in his chair, as if he were too lazy to invent a reply to this question.
He sat lolling back
in a great elbow-chair, being a heavy corpulent man, and had his meat brought him by two women slaves.
'But how sad, how very sad to think,' mused Michael, lolling back
with his arms behind his head, 'of all that sacred sperm going to waste night by night, from the loins of millions of Nordic youths.
A witness reported seeing him slumped in his gran's Citroen Picasso with his head lolling back
Ali eighth-round KO v George Foreman, Kinshasa 1974 To the disbelief of all observers Ali opted to play "rope-a-dope" with the fearsome Foreman, lolling back
on the ropes and inviting punishment.
The daily Toronto Star and American gossip website Gawker said they had seen the footage, which reportedly showed a man resembling Ford lolling back
in a chair in a room, inhaling from what appeared to be a glass crack pipe.
In fact, the wealthy are more likely to be lolling back
in their Rolls than taking out a bus pass and many comfortably-off people now donate their heating allowance to charity for the benefit of those who really need it.
For the next few Saturday evenings I shall be lolling back
, green with envy.
in a bath looking rather admiringly at your husband's balls is hardly demanding stuff.
Less than 10 meters away under a hanging bulb was the scene he expected to see: Stone, tied to a chair, blood spattered across his shirt, his head lolling back
and forth in semiconsciousness--and three men, all standing in front of him.
Had I been a drowsy, well-fed passenger lolling back
in his seat, fulIy at ease in the comfortable and the familiar?" Acutely aware of the "dull routine that was the reality of most people's jobs," Thompson had come to exhibit all the symptoms of a condition one hasn't heard too much about in the Age of Reagan-the male revolt against white-collar drudgery.
"I was taping the Jonathan Ross show last night and he left some bottles of Brains in my room," recalls a fit, tanned and astonishingly healthy looking Sir Tom, lolling back
in a comfortable armchair.
in a chair at the Granada studios and fanning herself with a property guide, Lucy-Jo is exhausted.