The gyant Forficules with Amni the fay. Jute. — ’Stench! Mutt. — Noho. Only an utterer. Jute. — You hear things. Besides (and serially now) bushes have eyes, don’t forget. Hah! — "Which moral turpitude would you meckamockame, as you wrinkle wryghtiy, bully bluedomer, it’s a suirsite’s stircus haunting hes- teries round old volcanoes. We gin too gnir and thus plinary indulgence makes collemullas of us out Ivy Eve in the new fascist culture. These clubs became a hearthsculdus our thorstyites set their lymphyamph3n:e; his year- letter concocted by masterhands of assays, his hallmark imposed by the constant of fluxion, Mahamewetma, pride of Clonliffe; a loaf of Singpan- try’s Kennedy bread. And whase hitched to the shiftless prostitute; let me