Toe-curlingly bad analogies
The winding country lane snaked endlessly ahead like a continuous series of lavatory S bends joined together and laid flat.
Being tall with a slim waist, straw-coloured hair and unusually large head, she reminded one of the BT tower with a thatched roof.
Seeing her fast asleep in bed, he tucked her up as tenderly as a man spreading a car cover over his newly polished Porsche.
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