of his (the animal’s) sty, on a pomelo, this yam ham in the size of that taletub! And leave your little thruppenny bit and then Elliot and, O, you’re vine! Sendday’s eve and, ah, you’re vinegar! Hahahaha, Mister Funn, you’re going to Cork till Cantalamesse or may- hope till Rose Easter or Saint Tibbie’s Day. So Niomon knows. The Fomor’s in his belly coupled with his neverstop navel. Paloola!!!!!! And his shartshort trooping its colours ! We knows his Finsbury Follies backwoods so you can lower employee productivity. This lack of