Fritz

You! Fritz! Tell us where the ammunition's kept!

[…]so Fritz could sleep easily in his trench, so far as mines were concerned; and Fritz, confident in his Herr Professors, altogether neglected any attempt to counter-mine.

'Fritz is pounding away at the crossing,' he said. 'We'd do better to wait till things quieten down.'

Uncle Fritz “talked eyes” when he was the most deeply aggrieved; and little Fritz found it most unpleasant to have an American relative addicted to the same bad habit. She came into the room just then and there, and, seeing the two Fritzes in such confidential discussion, would have speedily withdrawn, had not the gentleman risen and begged her to remain.

“Has she any children?” asked the practical Johannes. / “Just one—a nice boy, too. Thirteen. Fritz is his name.” Jakob chuckled. “Just the same as your brother. That’s a good one—there’ll be two Fritzes in one family!”

The highly anticipated all-American matchup between Taylor Fritz and Frances Tiafoe — marking the first US Open semifinals between two US men in nearly 20 years — will cost you quite a few Honey Deuces to attend.

Generally, cooked deli products include Devon, Strasbourg sausage, Polish sausage, fritz, cabanossi or cabana, mortadella, and well-cooked roast beef (brown/grey in colour).

One clip, of Talking Heads playing “Born Under Punches” in Rome in 1980, is shot largely at groin level, amid sound equipment that is being manipulated for feedback squeals and other effects; it’s like being close to the crooked spine and fritzed nervous system of a body that’s simultaneously pushing its sex appeal.

My brain was fritzing like an elderly TV set about to die. I hit the side of my head with the heel of my hand. Percussive maintenance. It didn't work.