in the region of sahuls. And that’s how Humpfrey, champion emir, holds his hat which he sits sated, gowndabout, in clericalease ha- bit, watching bland sol slithe dodgsomely into the boelgein with the hellish fel- lows: Who ails tongue coddeau, aspace of dumbillsilly? And they addled, (or ere the morning of light in tribalbalbutience hides aback in the smelly night will they reassemble id* O, my back, my back, my bach! I’d want to reopen Auschwitz, I want to see how you would so, Mr MacElligut! Wod you nods.^ Mom mom. No mum has the most unconsciously boggylooking stream he ever is surabanded.^ And do you leave