Gobful

The Professor, in order fittingly to celebrate this golden moment, leaned back in his chair, lit the worst cigar ever sold west of the Mississippi River, and blew five large gobfuls of smoke into the face of Mr. Gilhoolie, directly above him.

One after another, gobfuls of mash are gobbled up.

The reps sat in the only beam of midwinter afternoon sunlight, and they guzzled paté, crackers, gobsful of spring onions, lettuce done in varnish, they farted and burped and read business contracts to one another,[…].

They stood, mouths open and teeth bared, till the yolk-like film that seeped from their gums had slid to form small gobfuls, at which time, one after the other like a Gatling gun, they spat the slime at Pemmell′s face.

“[…]But when you speak of love, I am no longer old. I am absolutely full of it. I have crammed great gobsful of it into my music.”

Three of them were full already – the diggers had scooped up great gobfuls of concrete and soil.

Mr Laxton:[…]I once had a conversation with someone who was a permanent secretary — a top-notch civil servant in the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs — who was in the business of handing out big gobfuls of money — billions here, there and everywhere.

The neighbours were having a noisy party so I went and gave them a gobful.