>She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
>
>Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.
>
>The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
>
>McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper bag
>filled with vegetable soup.
>
>The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium.
>
>He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
>
>The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease
>
>Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Ballina at 6:36 pm travelling at 55 mph, the other from Claremorris 4:19pm at a speed of 35 mph.
>
>The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the full stop after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.
>
>John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
>
>The red brick wall was the colour of a brick-red crayon.
>
>Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
>
>The plan was simple, like my brother Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
>
>The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for while.
>
>"Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a student on 50 cent-a-pint night.
>
>He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but a real duck that was actually lame.Maybe from stepping on a landmine or something.
>
>Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter".
>
>She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
>
>It came down the stairs looking very much like something no-one had ever seen before.
>
>The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free cashpoint.
>
>It was a working class tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with their power tools.
>
>She was as easy as the Independent crossword.
>
>She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature British beef.
>
>Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened.
>
>It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
>
>Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

Section I The Basic Rules

Article 1: In order to call Shotgun, the caller must pronounce the word "Shotgun" as long as the driver verifies the call.

Article 2: Shotgun may only be called if all occupants of the vehicle are outside and directly on the way to the said vehicle.

Article 3: Early calls are strictly prohibited. Shotgun may only be called while walking toward the vehicle and only applies to the drive immediately forthcoming.

Shotgun can never be called while inside a vehicle or still technically on the way to the first location. For example, one can not get out of a vehicle and call Shotgun for the return journey.

Article 4: The driver has final say in all ties and disputes. The driver has the right to suspend or remove all shotgun privileges from one or more persons.

Section II Special Cases

These special exceptions to the above rules should be considered in the order presented; the case listed first will take precedence over any of the cases beneath it, when applicable.

Article 1: In the instance that the normal driver of a vehicle is drunk or otherwise unable to perform their duties as driver, then he/she is automatically given Shotgun.

Article 2: In the instance the person who actually owns the vehicle is not driving, then he/she is automatically given Shotgun, unless they
decline.

Article 3: In the instance the the driver's spouse, lover, partner, or hired prostitute for the evening is going to accompany the group, he/she is automatically given Shotgun, unless they decline.

Article 4: In the instance that one of the passengers may become so ill during the course of the journey that the other occupants feel he/she will toss their cookies, then the ill person should be given Shotgun to make appropriate use of the window.

Article 5: In the instance that only one person knows how to get to a given location and this person is not the driver, then as the designated navigator for the group they automatically get Shotgun, unless they decline.

Article 6: In the instance that one of the occupants is too wide or tall to fit comfortably in the back seat, then the driver may show mercy and award Shotgun to the genetic misfit.

Alternatively, the driver and other passengers may continually taunt the poor fellow as they make a three-hour trip with him crammed in the back.

Section III The Bastard Rules

Article 1: If the driver so wishes, he/she may institute the Bastard Rules on the process of calling Shotgun. In this case all rules, excepting that of Section 1, Article 4, are suspended and the passenger seat is occupied by whoever can take it by force.

Article 2: The driver must announce the institution of the Bastard Rules with reasonable warning to all passengers. This clause reduces the amount of blood lost by passengers and the damage done to the vehicle.
Please follow the above rules to the best of your ability. If there are any arguments or exceptions not covered in these rules, the driver calls the shots, as stated in Section 1, Article 4

I don't know how to put this but I'm kind of a big deal. People know me. I'm very important. I have many leather-bound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany.

I love scotch. Scotchy, scotch, scotch. Here it goes down, down into my belly...

Brian: I'll give this little cookie an hour before we're doing the no-pants dance.
Ron: Wow. Never ceases to amaze me. What cologne you gonna go with? London Gentleman, or wait. No, no, no. Hold on. Blackbeard's Delight.
Brian: No, she gets a special cologne... It's called Sex Panther by Odeon. It's illegal in nine countries... Yep, it's made with bits of real panther, so you know it's good.
Ron: It's quite pungent. It's a formidable scent... It stings the nostrils. In a good way. Brian, I'm gonna be honest with you, that smells like pure gasoline.
Brian: They've done studies, you know. 60% of the time, it works every time.

Brian: Where is the suit store? We've been walking for forty-five minutes!
Champ: Brick, I thought you said this was a shortcut.
Brick: Fantastic!
Ron: Well, is it a shortcut or not?
Brick: Okay!

Brian: Don't get me wrong, I love the ladies. I mean they rev my engines, but they don't belong in the newsroom!
Champ: It is anchorman, not anchorlady! And that is a scientific fact.
Brick: I don't know what we're yelling about!
Brian: You're with us, Ron, what do you think?
Ron: She... Sh... It's terrible! She has beautiful eyes, and her hair smells like cinnamon!
Brick: Loud noises!

For the entire Channel 4 news team, I'm Veronica Corningstone.
And I'm Ron Burgundy. Go fuck yourself, San Diego.