It must be the rotgut from l'Assommoir that was hacking away inside him.
Men always say a whole lot when theyre full of rotgut, unless they get nasty.
"That's all that rotgut's good for," the customer said, jumping over the counter.
Now he was the official distiller, and the rotgut he produced was the only thing that made existence bearable.
I'd sooner have had a pint of ...