People in India are always being type-caste.
Misusing the relative pronoun is a slippery slope, and can end in whomlessness.
Sherlock Holmes novels are sexist! As are all mister-ies.
Massage therapy patients can be separated into two groups: the haves, and the have-knots.
I met a homeless prostitute during WWI. She was known as The Grate Whore.
My socialist friend thinks that hiring non-union labour to build a partition is indie fence-able.
Puns about fruit are banned as ‘ates peach‘. They pit the stoners against the fuzz.
My mother is in favour of affirmative action. For example she’s convinced the government should subsidize all fees for female aboriginals who want to attend university. How can she be sure such a scheme will work? “Trust me,” she says, “it’s my woman’s Inuit-tuition.“
Frittata: food for a ‘bare breasts’ advocate.
NED: I refuse to write poetry about pigs’ knees.
ED: Why’s that?
NED: It’s against my religion. I don’t do pigs’ knees. Is that controversial?
ED: Well, you sure have a hardline stanza on a boar shin!