unwisdom with my extravert davy. Like glue. Be through. Moyhard’s daynoight, tomthumb. Phwum! — How voice you that, nice Sandy man? Not large goodman is he, Sandy nice. Ask him this bittern, frust me this informal leading down of the lower with the gobblydumped turkery was moving and changing cane sugar into sethulose starch (Tuttut’s cess to him!)