The following morning the weather was so foul it hardly deserved the name, and Dirk decided to call it Stanley instead.
Stanley wasn't a good downpour. Nothing wrong with a good downpour for clearing the air. Stanley was the sort of thing you needed a good downpour to clear the air of. Stanely was muggy, close, and oppressive, like someone large and sweaty pressed up against you in a tube train. Stanley didn't rain, but every so often he dribbled on you.
Dirk stood outside in the Stanley.
From The Salmon of Doubt
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