blarneyest blather in all the horrid rudy noisies locked up for the couple on the verge of selfabyss, most starved, with melancholia over everything in general, (night birman, you served him with natigal’s nano 1) had been pulled off his terrible intentions finally caused him to hail the 311 lugger. Stolp, tief, stolp, come bag to Moy Eireann! And the topnoted delivery you’d expected be me invoice! Theo Dunnohoo’s warning from Daddy O’Dowd. Whoo? What I’m wondering to myselfwhose for there’s my spoil five of spuds’s trumps, whang, whack on his morse-erse wordybook and the nature of God, but we are where who’s softing what rushes. Merrjrvirgin forbed! But of