Слово "butt". Англо-русский словарь Мюллера

He moved about in bed very little, ate with reluctance, and didn't put on his glasses or butt in on conversations. The life around him, to which he normally reacted decisively with approval or censure, had faded. He had become indifferent to it. His customary strength of will had been shaken and he had surrendered to his weakness with a kind of pleasure. It was the wrong kind of pleasure - such as is felt by a man who is freezing to death and powerless to move.

A pond in dimensions, and a scuttle-butt in taste.

was a huge pain in the butt.

He liked a butt and was most cheerful when someone was there on whom he could exercise his sarcasm.

"Now, her timidity and nervousness, which at home had been a butt for mere chaff, became, under the new circumstances of their life, a serious annoyance to the man.

Along the whole of the extensive parade-ground the soldiers stood in scattered groups: by the poplars that bordered the causeway, by the gymnastic apparatus, by the door of the company’s school, and in the neighbourhood of the butts.

Then he was given a lodge to keep, exactly as he had feared upon the island; and he still lives, a great favourite, though something of a butt, with the country boys, and a notable singer in church on Sundays and saints' days.

What, you want me to come out looking like you, cactus butt?

Do you speak English, butt steak? You follow this officer.

Balaganov sucked in his stomach, spread his feet to the width of a rifle butt, and boomed like a soldier:

Had not the rifle of the leader of the party swung from its fastenings beside his saddle in such a way as to strike against the butt of his great metal-shod spear I should have snuffed out without ever knowing that death was near me.

A shrewd clout behind the ear with the butt of the dog whip stretched the animal in the snow, quivering softly, a yellow slaver dripping from its fangs.

In fact, he looked a little amused. The face of a man who has seen this reaction scores of times-maybe hundreds. "All right. But it better be good." "Oh, it is. " Donatti leaned back. "I told you we were pragmatists here. As pragmatists, we have to start by realizing how difficult it is to cure an addiction to tobacco. The relapse rate is almost eight-five per cent. The relapse rate for heroin addicts is lower than that. It is an extraordinary problem. Extraordinary." Morrison glanced into the wastebasket. One of the cigarettes, although twisted, still looked smokeable. Donatti laughed good-naturedly, reached into the wastebasket, and broke it between his fingers. "State legislatures sometimes hear a request that the prison systems do away with the weekly cigarette ration. Such proposals are invariably defeated. In a few cases where they have passed, there have been fierce prison riots. Riots, Mr Morrison. Imagine it." "I," Morrison said, "am not surprised." "But consider the implications. When you put a man in prison you take away any normal sex life, you take away his liquor, his politics, his freedom of movement. No riots-or few in comparison to the number of prisons. But when you take away his cigarettes-wham! bam!" He slammed his fist on the desk for emphasis. "During World War I, when no one on the German home front could get cigarettes, the sight of German aristocrats picking butts out of the gutter was a common one. During World War II, many American women turned to pipes when they were unable to obtain cigarettes. A fascinating problem for the true pragmatist, Mr Morrison."

On the small table formed by the lid of the wash basin were various objects. False teeth in a glass of water. Another glass, empty. A bottle of mineral water. A large flask. An ash-tray containing the butt of a cigar and some charred fragments of paper; also two burnt matches.

SK: So when you allow someone to see you butt naked,

She was moving across the bedroom in long strides, the white lace nightgown molded to her body, the cigarette clamped between her front teeth (God he hated the way she looked with a butt in her mouth) sending back a little white riband over her left shoulder like smoke from a locomotive’s stack.

On the night table beside the ash tray overflowing with crushed butts stood the empty bottle, but the last thing I remembered before the curtain came down was watching myself take the second drink.