We can be a colourless and soulless mob, at times, clearly lacking an appreciation of poetry and good language.
Correction. Some of us on occasions don’t appreciate the application of poetic language in palpably inappropriate circumstances.
“Correction” (as it happens) is the operative word in this post.
Alf’s attention has been drawn to this Herald on Sunday report, which kicks off:
A decision to name New Zealand’s biggest new private prison a place to “move out of the mist” is being called “potty” by justice campaigners.