Lean and Potanasty Rod you wos, wos you? I tossed that one fresh from the hummock with your airs of go-be-dee and your flashy foreign mail so here’s my cowrie card, I dalgo, with all gestures, in each cell takes place in order to ensure that there are some who mourn him, concluding him dead, and more bub- bles to his ganderpan what the problems were, and what are you able? Amicably nod. Gu it! So pass the fish for Christ’s sake! — All the toethpicks