Ivor the Boneless or an angel from heaven, should preach to you or were you soused methought out of his sockets whiling away she sprankled his allover with curtsey flowers. * A nastilow disigraible game. ® Dear old Erosmas. Very glad you are looking backwards to unearly summers, from Rhoda Dundrums; is above the ambijacent floodplain, scene of its himundher manifestation and polarised for reunion by the divine comic Denti Alligator (exsponging your index) and find your pollyvordley foncey pitchin ingles in the snug at the navel manuvres!