Again our hands moved swiftly among the blades grabbing at the sticks while agile fingers neatly wound spiralling ribbons around the still moist and clammy powder.
What still slaps the clammy flab of our submissive consciousness hard enough to get our attention?" By the end of that extremely wicked book, he had answered the question and had put, it seemed, a full stop to the Hannibal saga.
The 60s were not to hit Ireland for another couple of decades, and the country was still in the clammy grip of the priests and their acolyte politicians – it was one of the latter who declared in parliament that there had been no sex in Ireland before the coming of television in 1962, which, as the poet Larkin has it, was rather late for me.
You may certainly care more about Bour jaily's 48‐year‐old lawyer‐hero, Bob Brill, but he still lives in the clammy shadow of Cozzens' Arthur Winner.
And how bizarre that decades later, the memory of that anxious, ragged waiting-to-be-picked time can still make my hands clammy.
Her body would go still, and be cool and clammy to the touch.
Are your hands clammy yet?
Outside, on a clammy Kingston night, with the National Stadium still throbbing, the Champs' Wall of Honour gleamed in the moonlight.
They're still there, still sticky and sweaty, still flying two clammy fingers in the face of change.
"We talked about the symptoms [of pre-race nerves], the clammy hands and all that, but it's still hard to cope with them when you get to the race.
