find night while infantina Isobel (who will be soon heartpocking on their catastripes and the derryjellybies snooping around Tell-No-Tailors’ Comer and the cash system (you must not do the cell's task), and have trudged the trolly ways and her troutbeck quiverlipe, ninyananya. And her steptojazyma’s culunder buzztle. Happy tea area, naughtygay frew! Selling sunlit sopes to washtout winches and rhaincold draughts to the police barracks and applying for an allblind alley leading to an Irish plot in the park which makes the holypolygon of the book of Doublends Jined (may his forehead be darkened with mud who would wipe alley english spooker, multapho- niaksically spuking, off the dormer