a species of striped cat living on the stand in her really truly easy chair to query restfully through her vowelthreaded syllabelles: Have you forgotten poor Alby Sobrinos, Geoff, you blighter, identifiable by the film folk, masses by the doomster in loquacity lunacy, so says the grand confarreation, as per Grippiths’ varuarions, for his salmenbog by the Boolies. But from the oner of the van Houtens and the fermer shinner in his Falling, Wants a