(Preambulatory into a brick wall)

In the Jahr of 1992 and the following Jahr (which, by most reputable accounts, was the Jahr of 1993), I was ensconced in a universe of university and simultaneously sharing a dwelling with two other members of the human species, who shall herein be coloured purple and green. We were all a bit mad then.

Then?

Pleasantly struck over the mindbrain by the notion of holding a preposterously lengthy and circuitously rambling written discussion, largely revolving around topics of stark gibbering nonsense (stark! bark!), we proceeded to spend a disturbing and peculiarly intermittent fraction of those Jahrs pouring forth our innermost haha into a couple of big papery things through the medium of cheap biro dribble.

Each person would respond to the ramblings of the previous, or from time to time shoot off on a twisting tangent of their own. Occasionally there were Other Contributors™, some of whom have since taken up recreational implosion, or simply gone mad.

The dwelling was on William Street, and the big papery things survived. Here they are, bit by eky bit. Eek! Run away!

Not 'arf.

(This is Gibberbook One)

              Front matters not
                The man who never blinks
                  Until thoroughly decomposed
                    Let us go then, I and me
                      Banished forever
                    Dim semiotic desires
                  Millimillillimilimeter and Earwicker
                Wipeout
              Very close to harmony
            It was all he had left
          Whisperingly
        Back at the base
      Boredom in limbo
    Where's my moo-cow?
  A sinister gentleman's raincoat
Soupy twist
  Dear dear
    Sage sinography
      I want some plot
        Breaking free
          Wooffle ooffle!
            The Antiplautus and the pluperfect conditional
              Election Mania
                Page 14
                  To the starship Milwaukee
                    Not very good stars
                      Curses
                    Upside, downside
                  Pieces of marmalade
                Hic haec hoc
              Seive sense
            The Sisterhood of Omelette
          Foresty forest
        Evolved from the rain
      What did it all mean?
    No absolutes! No idea!
  An environmentalist's nightmare
Flibbertigibber
  Chapter None
    The moment of truth
      Pitch invasion
        Naranja? Arancia?
          Plubnic burp
            Young Nat Penderby
              Apparatus umbrellicus
                Sic transit arcana mundi
                  In my end is my beginning
                    Everybody weird
                      A really good space filler
                    Orighkinal siggn
                  Language, Timotei!
                Grammatological pap
              Relative madmen
            Vedic doodles
          Rewind
        Into the sunset
      All in the mind
    The absence of his subjectivity
  Dialogue of cowpats
Makes you go kerfazzle
  Policies for the future of the text
    The island of seven pages
      Chinston Wormhill
        Ray Vin Ma'd
          8 out of 10 Wombles
            Still completely
              Interim
                Herring and Crisp
                  Dire critics and nested brackets
                    Quince (Peter)
                      Drang nach Osten
                    Metamorphosis
                  Elk, eek
                Up we shall journey
              Four pages later
            A flyte of limericks
          Mauve with boredom
        No goat on the moon
      The Limerick Squad
    Grandmatology
  Covered in cow
Quite enough determinacy
  Detective commissioner Walrus
    Book virus
      The ice-cap reigns
        Made glorious somewhere TEXT
          The sentence-pede
            Fore legs good
              I love existential quantifiers
                Well-past-its-sell-by-date logic
                  Il n'y a pas d'hors-texte
                    Archaeopteryx
                      Generous irony
                    Limericks — never again
                  Tekstulineto
                Chopped up
              Almost Bowie
            Desiderata
          It's a sign
        Limerick desserts
      Is it a question?
    Staggeringly mad and obtuse
  Beezo whether
Derrideana
  Arcana, Freudiana, and Zxy
    Ten-month-old sick
      Star Trext
        Triptych
          Trip tick
            Trip sick
              Dipstick
                Twentych
                  Krud gibber twaddle tosh
                    The absence of sane
                      Gibbons, pigs and lions
                    He thought he saw
                  Rubbishyat
                Morning activities
              Afternoon activities
            Phallogocentrism
          Evening activities
        Goodnight
      Word association football
    Bless thy five wits
  Synchronicity
Diachronicity, and variants
  The process of history
    The progress of himmel-rot
      Boldly
        Biblical flow
          Monthly moo
            Fish diagram
              Carlsberg Black Label
                Omelette-faced fractals
                  Madasa
                    The pluggandisp of pluggandisp
                      Form, self-referring, is content
                    Dustbin sonnet
                  Arthur in his bin
                Sum pipple
              No God was reified
            Obscurantism is normality
          Outdated metaphysic
        No innuendo
      Full circle
    Yes, you
  Heap big breakfast
Sink stink
  Repressions
    Rudeish bit
      Rubbish bit
        Kayak intestine
          Discarded dogmas
            Twixt one logic and the next
              Edna's approach
                Return of the Pope
                  Raving other
                    Limericks at dawn
                      The fishmonger joke
                    Swiss roll
                  Boustrophedon
                Gravity play
              Alpha es et O
            O Meaningless
          Greek garlic
        O meta-stuff
      Go, Volvo, go!
    Xylophones
  A godalmighty belch
Gyres run on
  Jack and Jill
    Gibberwocky
      His flashing hair!
        Tom Lehrer scansion
          Pericles' Funeral Oration
            Oh frabjous play!
              More pickaxes
                Popular Philosophy
                  Brainium
                    Haddock official
                      What did you think?
                    Inconsequential indigestion
                  The final frontier
                Wellington, to boot
              Stereophonic nothing
            New Cluedo
          All writing is suicidal
        Epitaphs and gribbles
      Death of the Authors
    The final clock
  Are you mad?
Are you madder?
  Are you maddest?
    Are you Liz?
      Art thou Liz?
        Liz who?
          Are you Geoffrey?
            Is you Geoffrey?
              Bonus question
                Are you Simon?
                  Are you barking?
                    Are you ergo?
                      Double-page spread
                    Have you read the book?
                  Thnky fr rdng
                Diaphragms of realitude
              By hook or by crook
            Acknowledgemoulds
          Xedni

(This is Gibberbook Two)

  Reboot
    Crosswords
      Where's the plotsky?
        Bleen and grue
          Mrs Potato Head
            A Geoffrey who Simond a Liz
              Greetings from Phallogocentrism
                Depictions
                  Tennis deconstruction and mould
                    Oscar Moskva
                      The graph of guilt
                    Invasions
                  The pyramid of Liff
                Luigiustic pofferation
              Tarragon, tarragon, tarragon
            Coffee trays
          Esperanglo joko
        Esperanta ŝerco
      Further note on the "Ŝerco"
    The major corpus
  La plej granda verkaĵo
Gospel according to St Bernard
  This man is an lunatic!
    Owl Farther
      Free pizzas and an cucumber
        Praise be!
          Saussure
            Chomsky
              Philosophy belch
                Your nose becomes a moth
                  My goaty, my boggly
                    Gnugle
                      The anorak alphabet
                    The addlepated alphabet
                  Loony O'Porridge
                The acne alphabet
              Chi San and the hermit
            Chi Zar and the Great Master Yog
          All bananas
        Just kinda ludic
      A warehouse full of toilet seats
    The alphabet of it
  The plot plotter
Now
  Talk of text
    Tribute
      Are you a deconstructionist?
        Ahem
          The what
            This hopeless now
              Eludicating bang
                Devastating boing
                  Textville timetable
                    Raving author
                      Are you an Author?
                    Cogito ergo sumo
                  Touché
                And yet
              Waxwork and walrus
            Hideous welcome
          Before the textual revolution
        You are Liz
      You are Simon
    You are Geoffrey
  Remember the rules
Criticisms
  This is me saying
    Greetings from a guest
      Saluton from another guest
        The North Pole of the Sun
          Why not?
            What is art?
              Is it?
                Quoth the raving
                  A Leonard Cohen song
                    Anatiferous haiku
                      Gone again
                    Heavy elk crossing
                  A plank in the decks
                To the broad sunlit uplands
              Normality will resume
            Arthur bursts
          Megabeggar
        Credulous student
      Limerick extension
    Veritable biographer
  A good morning
Disclaimers
  Slip-ups in the ethereal
    Hipporhinostricow
      Arnie the Armadillo
        Bernie the Bat
          Sebastian the Steamroller
            A catalogue of Pavarotti
              Untitled
                My life was a geranium
                  The sanity report
                    Know the feeling
                      Gramophone sonnetry
                    Gobblebarble spaghettry
                  Song for Maastricht
                Dead moob
              Treaties made of pond
            The telos of the arche
          The lumbergrad song
        A local map
      A global map
    A radiation map
  Ignorance
Secret diary
  Implausible books
    Supplementary bibliography
      Phrase book 1
        Phrase book 2
          Phrase book 3
            Phrase book 4
              Filling
                Guide to Paul de Man
                  A load of old books
                    Another load of old books
                      A third load of old books
                    A fourth load of old books
                  Green pie
                Estos vidanta vin!
              Brain cheese
            Brain scones
          Flattening by imitation
        Ananasogram
      Both guns blazing
    Imploding bastard
  Yesterday's tomorrow
Closed for deconstruction
  Oaf who
    A wandering moose
      Breaking the mould
        Fish warning
          Obey gnu, I see
            What's the problem?
              Probably weather
                And they call it
                  O, ye use being!
                    Curlicue
                      The Scottie Play
                    Sonnet 130.2
                  Trekemata
                If the universe is about to end
              Doily flan
            Perhaps it is ending
          Irrelevanto
        Spuggly
      Hairy scribble
    Smelly dribble
  Toady's menu
Tomorrow's rotty
  Yesterday's regurge
    Sunday crunch
      Honest Frint's
        5 Oak Crescent, Littlehampton
          42 Vico Road, Dublin
            Custard fungus
              Meaningless myth
                Wooble
                  Mattock blubber
                    Toothpost
                      And so the cosmos began
                    This is Radio 6
                  Doing the doo
                Q-ogonek
              Loose sprocket
            Gnu gnows?
          Smelly on wheels
        No one is sane
      Sleeve notes
    Not sleeves
  Random people
Snar snarrr biddle de koow
  Aardvarkiana fulminata
    Joyeux party
      Never again
        Goatry pitch
          The glue is cast
            Utter metaphysic
              All aboard the milkfloat
                Blunderbuss or grape?
                  GCSE in surrealism
                    Circumlocution
                      Attila's kind of day
                    Pickled onion
                  Serenity peg
                Carpet boom
              The calm before the storm
            Poor old uncle Jacques
          Seasonal stodge
        Real fairy cake
      Slush
    Ideal hell
  Alternative hell
Nightmare meltdown
  Daft glyptodon thrips
    Phaistos disq
      Enorbous
        Ping the Jabberwock
          Albert the monster
            Putrid offal sandwiches
              Shrimp Trek
                Warp 459
                  Front to back
                    Carparking
                      Allusions
                    Dead zombies
                  Stylistically negligible
                Vervicis
              Logic
            Emendation, Lewis
          Moonmoose
        Anglepolo
      Buy sickle
    Adam and Eve it
  Gone bong
Ends well

Ends well

Take a hard boiled egg. Buy it from Sainsbury's. Strike it repeatedly against your forehead. You now have egg on your face. Stew lightly until bruised. Baste it until lambasted. Throw out the lamb – and down the Château Villandretmouillé 1973 until (w)asted. Throw up.

You need – an IQ of > 73 (available from most large retail inlets inlaws). Coriander will do instead – except in February. Add a pint of whisky. Throw the baby out, being careful to conserve the bath water. Butcher cows on their way home. Then simmer lightly until thoroughly simmered.

Arthur made a sudden mid-recipe reappearance. Now was his chance. It was another case for

WOMBAT MAN.

But it was too late – his arch-surrealist foe

AARDVARK FISH

had go(a)t there first. Using his recipe book, however, Wombat Man succeeded in out-weirding his adversary, who turned out to be none other than

PROFESSOR KARSWELL

that ends well.


{And here ends the Second – and last – Gibberbook.}

Gone bong

My brain is gone
    My brain is gone
        I wonder WHERE
            My brain is gone?

My sane is bong
    My sane is bong
        An odd ECLAIR
            My sane is bong!


Hoodliser this Christmas on BBC8.

"I can't wholly remember what I thought about before I thought about literary theory."

Ahem. Discuss. Answers on the third side of a postcard please.

Adam and Eve it

"Zebra," said Adam. "If it had been on time, I should have called it 'Migraine'. Trust God to disconnect the aerial."

    At this moment, Eve arrived. "Z already!" she said, "And what about 'BICYCLE'? You've forgotten, haven't you? It's all very well you sitting there thinking up names for things just so that you can order them about! It'll all go horribly wrong, you'll see! And here I am, trudging about Paradise. How can I possibly get you those nice banana things for your tea without a bicycle! You remembered a name for 'banana' well enough, didn't you? And you spelled 'kitchen' with a 'C', just to get it named in the first half hour. Well, you can get your own bananas from now on – I expect that ridiculous aardvark thing will help you. Your sense of humour is so puerile! You just had to name the things with funny noses first, didn't you? Aardvark! Anteater! ..."

    But by this time Adam had slipped away. As he wandered about, his head throbbing with a terrible zebra, he met the Serpent. "Greetings" said the Serpent. "Saluton!" said Adam. Adam explained his problem. "Simple!" said the Serpent, "it's like fishing." Adam looked puzzled.

    "You stand there, I'll throw you the fish," the Serpent explained patiently. This made Adam uneasy, but he couldn't identify any especial reason for this.

    "So?" he persisted, "what about bicycles?"

    "Simple," said the Serpent. "Call that banana 'One pound fifty', then give it to me!"

    "Okay," said Adam, mystified. His doubts about the Serpent were both allayed and confirmed when it offered him a large, banana-shaped object in return for the banana.

    An hour later, Adam knocked on the door of Eve's bower. "I've come about the reaping!" he grinned.

Buy sickle

plums (n.) (pl.) (s.) (adj.)
    3m.   plums, dried plums, grapes, prunes or other sickle. [Fr. guille, Ln. popocotopotloid, *bhgw(d)tә2].

BUY SICKLE

{A bicycle flies past, with no one on it}

Anglepolo

[       ] <-- There isn't any text here. Or do YOU know better?

ANGLEPOISE
{zigzag arrow leading down to a Polo mint}


Goats should be sheep and not Hurd.

but llamas should be Karma.

ιάκ

Moonmoose

"There's been an indoor yak throwing competition Louis XIV"

For there are footprints on the ceiling.

It hung there for a moment, its antlers entangled in the chandelier drops like dewy twigs, a look of hopeless ontological doubt in its tender eyes. Its hind hooves kicked uncertainly in the living room air. Its broad snout twitched mournfully, and it started to fall. Up! Up! wrenching house and video with it, through ceiling, and, with shattering of slates, roof. The earth dwindled to a slightly bluish melon, the clouds tore past like net curtains in June. Oh, how it fell and fell!

Until its antlers buried themselves, abruptly, in a soft substance like salt, slightly mildewed marble, covered with a thick rind. There it remained, still ostensibly preoccupied with the difference between Being and beings. And that is why, O reader...

There is a moose in the moon. --> Mooo --> Moo --> Moomoo!

Emendation, Lewis

Great quotations, number 59.

"There's been a murder, Lewis."

This cannot stand. Or sit; but kneeling is a possibility. For there has been no murder, nor is this an anticipatory remark. Hence "murder" needs to be emended, and the best alternative is clearly "an indoor yak-throwing competition in Shrovebury".

Lewis is also unacceptable – damned Geordie accent. This is clearly an oblique reference to the Professionals – Lewis Collins. Or, still more likely, to Louis XIV, king of France; it is well known that certain members of his court not infrequently indulged in the hurling of yaks (and on occasion bullfrogs). So the quotation now stands at:

There's been an indoor yak-throwing competition in Shrovebury, Louis XIV.

Logic

Today Liz is 22; previously, heretofore she was 21 — the Cabinet are 22 ==> Liz is the Cabinet ==> she is to blame for the appalling conditions in this country --> her answer – "I forget" ==> she probably does a better job than the PM --> not such a good radio programme.

Vervicis

It's good to see Liz drawing arrows. But too much gibber is a dangerous thing.

"Vervicis est sine fine scribere"

                (Himself)

"Būbus" = To/From Cows

1/2e1

π/8

CON3
-------
√TEXT ÷
---------

--------
  242
--------

"libri est uerbosum esse"

  nūgāx
+ fūfant

------------
= nougāt fōndānt

Stylistically negligible

Not to Scale

{A diagram. On the left is an assortment of lines, rectangular corners and transverse beams, like a heap of broken TV aerials. To the right of this is a house, with three arrows emerging. The middle arrow points to a fish.}


{OLD JOKE (becoming clichéd and hence unsurreal) 2/10}

{The topmost arrow points to the word "gnosticism", from which an arrow leads downwards (past the fish) to "more gnosticism" and thence to "deliberation", "elvish" and "dervish". The final arrow leads to an explosion that blasts the word ANALYTICAL from its core.}

loaf-tree anima of the seventh legless with all termite-crunching species of brain. Stylistically negligible and overt gangrene.

Dead zombies

Good evening. Tonight a report has just come in, as another vital sector is hit by the recession. Dead zombies have been fired tenned on a large scale: employers hope that many (limbs) may be lost through "natural" wastage.

And now – the weather. Most parts of the country are still subject to weather but cut-backs have meant that parts of Wales and the Isle of Man are no longer receiving weather.
*

Stir fried chicken are reported to be invading Hong Kong – here is a diagram of John Major's brain ----> · (to scale).

* Dear Sir,
I hope you are well & having weather...

Allusions

    { SATIS FECUNDITATIS
LIZ { PARUM CLARITATIS
{ NIMIUM SANITATIS
"It's an allusion [allegedly]"

Is this
a question I see before me?

Oh no! Not another one!

No – here comes another one...

"Dead zombies don't hold tea parties," as the astronaut said to the takerunder.


Dead zombies are redundant. Q.E.D.

Carparking

It is a little know grassy knoll but nonetheless significant fact that 21 February is National Car Parking day. This event, ever since its establishment over 30 seconds ago, has become something of a national institution. Up and down the country events will be held, co-ordinated by the major sponsor of the day, NCP, and a record turn-out is expected. Participators have a host of features to enjoy – there will be workshops on the best techniques for car-parking, including a debate chaired by the Minister for Carparks and Disused Docklands, Sir Timothy Sprognall, dealing with the perennial problem: which is better, reverse or forward parking? There will also be special cinemas set up in various carparks, showing excerpts from many recent films involving scenes in carparks. British director Alan Park-er will be explaining why it is in fact impossible to make a thriller without a murder in a carpark, preferably an underground one.

An exhibition will also be on show, concerning "famous carparks of history" going right back to biblical chariot parks. The event promises to be a popular one, and members of the public are advised to arrive early, to be sure of finding a parking-place.

Front to back

The Book is back (or is it front? But the front is the back --> The book is back to tnorf). This time it's public (but soon to be made private).

M utually        )   No
A ssured )- thank
D econstruction ) you
{A circular badge with an unhappy face in the centre, and the words "DECONSTRUCTION & CONCOMITANT INSANITY? NO THANKS" round the edge.}

Warp 459

Suddenly the Mona Lisa frowned in the manner of a person being unexpectedly disembowelled with a pair of tweezers. The image ruptured, and reformed into the most horrific-smelling venomous beast of burden that any of the Enterprise's crew (of seven) had ever seen.

It was the Leader of the Shrimps.

It oozed gungingly round in its bucket to face Kirk. "We come in peace," it slimed, "shoot to kill."

"That's my line," exclaimed Kirk, who now resembled a shoebox full of pot noodle and gargoyle sick. "Fire torpedoes, Mr Lunu!"

"Firing now, sir," replied the Lieutenant. The Right-tenant said nothing (probably because he was Russian and didn't understand a word anyone said).

"Well, you wouldn't be firing them four millennia ago, would you?" said Morse, appearing not altogether unbizarrely from the ship's Portawarp. "Lewis?"

"Warp factor 17, Mr Snott," ordered Kirk.

"Och, if I give her any more she'll blow Captain," replied the haggis-eating bagpipes.

"Warp factor 459." And she blew.

"Damn," said Kirk. "I did it again."

(to be continued?)

Shrimp Trek

The scanner opened, revealing an inky void screaming for its mummy. Framed in the centre was a massive tooth-shaped metallic four-poster-bed-like thing that might have been called a ship if it hadn't looked as if it was going to squelch revoltingly around the universe very soon.

"My God," said Kirk, who wasn't, and mutated into a herringbone-patterned sofa-cover. "It's the Shrimps."

"Incoming frequency, sir," said Uuuhur-urhub-uhru for no very good reason, except it was "true".

"Hail the Shrimps, Lieutenant," said Kirk, recording his version of various religious and pseudopolitical love squawks for posterity's posterior.

A picture appeared on the scanner. It was the Mona Lisa.

"That is a popsicle, Captain," said Mr Pock, studying his instruments.

"No, it's not – it's a painting by da Vinci. And please put those violins away, Mr Pock. And the harpsichord."

Putrid offal sandwiches

In Tomorrow's "Storybook", Albert decimates the population of Middlesex and uses their mortal remains to make interesting and imaginative paperweights.

Also – we'll be giving helpful hints on putrid offal sandwiches (here's one I prepared much, much earlier...)

There will also be a competition for the best collection of used tea-bags and the most bizarre decapitation. All heads must be claimed after the programme, as we cannot accept responsibility for returning them.

His brain was resting in hospital last night after a 36-hour ordeal with the shrimps.

Albert the monster

There was a long green monster
A monster thick was he
He had an aunty Gertrude
And he took her out for tea

She tasted... green.....

The monster's name was Albert
He had a bowler hat
He kept it in a filbert
To hide it from his cat

The cat was... mean.....

The cat was sometimes oddish
The cat was sometimes mad
It liked to smell old codfish
Especially if bad

They smelt... obscene.....

Albert liked railway stations
And eating people's knitting
He didn't like orations
Or much excessive spitting

He was quite... clean.....

For a monster – though he dabbled
In mudsprings in a land which
Had dung-heaps where he paddled
With a putrid offal sandwich

Green – and obscene!

Ping the Jabberwock

No. 24 SENSE --> {Diagram of a wibbly island containing a house, a tree, and two fish}

"Hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, thou Beamish Stout!
Calloo Calay!" he chortled in his gout.
[sorry: – goat]


The Ichthyosaurus

This poor beast found a doleful end
(It makes me weep to tell it)
One day it overheard its name
And then it pined and died of shame
Because it could not spell it.


There was a fishy lizardy thing
And sometimes it went: – Ping!
'Tis of this fishy lizardy I sing.
Ping!

Enorbous

Hello, persons.

I'm going to tell you about the Enorbous Orm.

It's groon, you see.

Made of fudge and treacly bits, bicycle chains, and old things with no name any longer.

{Increasingly illegible}

Full fathom furlongs of foom.

And as my writing degenerates into complete illegibility {illegible scribble}

Phaistos disq

THE PHAISTOS DAFT

Until now have certain answers for whichno explanation has been given by the authors though they have advanced very much to the point that are able to in space.
    We will start with the NYLON or PYLON, used in the construction of the Egyptian who forms part of the fishpulp in the blood of the airship.

1ST IMAGE – THE NYLON
    Design for the construction of an infra-red superluminal cargo vessel detection array found eighty-nine times on the side of the disq and four thousand six hundred and thirty-eight times on the other disq.
    By using the above in the "correct" manner, we can construct the framework.

2ND IMAGE – THE DISQ WITH SEVEN FEET
    This was very useful, as it was useful for the honey-collecting slave for fastening pieces of the pulp to his face, in order that better the Egyptian would fly to the planet Anar.

3RD IMAGE – TRUSTED INTENSIFIER
    Because they had to gather considerable quantities, they ran and were specially trained to gather dog's blood, which they made into honey and poured into their shoes. Yet this is the figure of a man of the palace because he is large of statue.

4TH IMAGE – TWICE AND IN A CHARACTERISTIC WAY
    Entirely different from the others, so it therefore resembles the number 8 (infinity). In part G we notice the 8-foliate turnip, indicating that
    a) Daedalus was insane
    b) we are insane
    c) the right quantity is the one gathered from two plants.

29TH IMAGE – Representation of an armadillo
    Meaningless, probably.

TOTAL WORQ OF THE TASQ
Overt materials: Fish, dog, nettles, no brain
Non-overt materials: Egg, sawdust, cowpat, air
Persons: We, the authors of this book
Number 8: The infinite
Number 6: Be seeing you!

Daft glyptodon thrips

{A woodlouse} Wilfred the woodlouse is ...
    DAFT.

And today's word is ...
    GLYPTODON
(which means --> an armadillo as big as a cow)

I would like to propose a vote of thanks to Jojoba and his performing nostrils, the Cambridge Camper Vans, Heinz, the Great Crested Grebe, the Archdeacon of Dung, alias Cucumber Colin, sherry-bather extraordinaire and all their little wordies without which all of this would have been numb, idle and dregs.

Tomorrow's word is THRIPS (which means a very small insect)
    --> {A very small insect}

"Alloverishness: a general sense of indisposition over the whole body."

{Someone sticking their tongue out with their fingers in their ears.}
{They have a leg, complete with foot and shoe, growing out of their right wrist.}

Nightmare meltdown

Sajmĉjo's Nightmare Meltdown:

1. "Please, this has been an aspect of it all" by Fred Flintstone and the Mucus
2. "Cowpats and other Diarrhoea" by the Flaming Flamingoes
3. "Casserole of Floor" by Johnny Sickbag and the American Ways
4. "Knife me in my misery" by Marvin Og and a bucket of rather smelly goat
5. "Neighbours Phlegm Song" by Cilla Black, Terry Wogan, Bruce Forsyth et al
6. "Gas Mark Nine Point Eight Recurring" by The Slime
7. "Upside Semolina Grubble" by Grotbaggle the Terribly Deranged
8. "Exploding Shoes" by "G" and "L" in the Minefield
9. "Go On – Have Another Slice of Brainweed" by Mr Toothpaste's Loony Bin
10. "Flop Twenty Backwards in Korean" by me

Alternative hell

An alternative flop 20

1. Julio Iglesias sings anything
2. "The Queen of the Knight"   Mrs Miller
3. "There's no one quite like Liz"   Grandma
4. "Everybody needs good neighbours"   Serbo-Croat friendship soc.
5. "Evil Woman"   M. Thatcher
6. "Song of the Great Hydraulic Dam Project"   People's Collective Song Union
7. "Why"   The Who
8. "Who?"   Wot
9. "The deconstructive break-dance rap"   Paul "de man" with de golden gun
10. "Blunderbuss"   Trash in the can
11. "Bonsai trees are killers"   West Midland CID Squad
12. "I've lost my memory"   The Who
13. "Carry on breakdancing"   New chips off the block
14. "Ashley Denton's party mix"   Borodin Trio
15. "We're gonna go for it"   New kids on the dole
16. "Nikita"   Khruschev & the Politburo
17. "Favourite fruit"   Banananaso & the Weebles
18. Nicaraguan national anthem   Rod Hull & Emu
19. "Hooked on hymns"   T. Hird & friends
20. "Europa – the remix (¼ lb)"   J L Pen

Ideal hell

Flop Twenty of an Ideal Hell

1. Eldorado Megamix with Hugh Scully and Bernard Manning
2. Barbara Windsor sings Abba
3. "We're Climbing up the Sunshine Mountain"   John Major
4. "The Dung Song"   St Winifred's School Choir
5. "Decomposition"   De Composer
6. "Ecology is Interesting"   Waldo Gribble
7. "Drunk Beetles"   Sarah Greene & Prince Charles
8. "Ave Maria"   Norman Tebbit
9. "Giraffe"   Skirting Boards
10. "We're Dead"   Thomas de Quincey & Elvis
11. "Oblong Rap"   Sarah Brightman & Melvyn Bragg
12. Michael Jackson sings George Formby
13. Michael Douglas sings Green Formica
14. "Apple"   Darre Fork and the Spongebags
15. "Long and Intermittent"   Steeleye Span
16. "Ears"   Smelly Spam
17. "Ginger Bobble Hat"   Terry Wogan
18. "Things from Wigan"   Terry Towel
19. "Burbbble Brubbble Bleeeh"   Steven Ant
20. "Lingering Odours"   Freddy Starr & Elaine Paige

Slush

LATER THAT SAME DAY:

{A huge weight, marked "10,000 TONS", has fallen on the snowman. His hat -- and its flower -- lie nearby, disconsolate.}

Real fairy cake

{Holly leaves and Christmas trees}

Snow is lying on the ground
And in the air the sleighbells sound
The frosty-patterned window-pane
It's British Summer Time again
(No it's not, it's Christmas...)

Yes, Christmas, and all children wait
For hoofbeats on the roof
But this year's stockings won't be filled
There's been a mighty goof
Yes, this year there's no peace on earth
No food and gifts abundant
For Father Christmas has been sacked
And his gnomes are all redundant.

Santa Claus is on the dole
He's UB40
His reindeer have been sold for glue
You might as well be naughty
Santa Claus is on the dole
Fini, kaputt, it's curtains
The magic sleigh's been repossessed
The suit's gone back to Burton's.

His elfin help has gone away
Oh, how will he survive?
The grotto rent's three months behind
And his giro's not arrived
He's too old to be reemployed
He's lost his little earner
The igloo heating's been cut off
He'll die of hypothermia...

Santa Claus is on the dole
He's getting thinner
Real fairy cake and Rudolf steak
Will be his Christmas dinner
Santa Claus is on the dole
And things don't look too handsome
His company is being probed
By TV's Esther Rantzen.

Ho, ho, ho.

{A snowman, with a flower in his hat, amid the falling snow.}

Seasonal stodge

SIMON'S SEASONAL STODGE

3 Christmas puddings (large)
½ tbsp roast turkey
1 carrot or onion
58 tsp salt
10 pts milk
6 rancid kippers
    sage
    bread sauce
3 gallons of liquid stuffing

(1) Put all ingredients (save the puds and turkey and salt and kippers) in a bowl or vat and mix at Gas Mark 17 until thoroughly exacerbated.

(2) Tear the kippers up and drop them out of the window onto the head or other bodily ailment of a passing vegetable.

(3) Eat the salt. (Best if downed in one.)

(4) Throw the turkey and Christmas pudding away, and serve. Have guillotine ready, as your dinner guests may despise you.

Poor old uncle Jacques

Ode(?) for Liz

It's hard being a deconstructionist in Oxford
Dogmas don't fit right with the dons
And people laugh when I write up
        my pieces of incomprehensible gibber.

Poor old uncle Jacques
He spent 18 years in the wilderness [good rhyme]
When he tried to convert people
to his ideas.

(I can't remember the song well enough – more later perhaps.)


    Santa's grotto
    Is on the first floor.
            [Found poem: Debenhams]

The calm before the storm

{The next four pages bear only a stain of spilled tea.}

Carpet boom

CHAPTER 4

Arthur reflected that the carpet tasted rather unpleasant. But did his choking, half-vomiting response constitute a reflection of the nature of the carpet, always supposing that it had one?


When firstly the Moppocrump spoke,
It came out like a sneeze (and awoke),
Seven rhubarbs ignited
And got so excited
They utterly misheard the joke.

                    (Boom, boom.)

< < BOOM > >

                    Moob.


oobm

Serenity peg

{Flow chart, starting at the bottom: "A Bit Limited", leading to "WHERE?", which is also led to by "Good question". A large chunky arrow leads on to a square box from whose left side four arrows point to a cloud of "UNIVERSES", being held up by five upward-floating arrows. From the top of the box a bendy arrow emerges, forking left to a "YES" pentagon caught in an infinite loop, and right to a "NO" triangle" from which the option exists to go further right to "SOMETIMES". Below the chart is a blob labelled "INK", and next to it the letters of the word "CIRCLE" are arranged in a ring with arrows between them pointing inwards to a very small circle.}

Thought Kiwi drink under belated
Said Cardinal Newman translated
Penguin and a leg
Serenity Peg
Who cares if it don't egg with limpet.

Pickled onion

"The world is my onion, fellow," said she
            And hoped her knee
                        Would agree.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHH!!!

Pardon.

A seldom not pickled in gin
Being not was enormously thin
Peculiar, delighted
And mildly benighted
It had to not stop to begin.

Attila's kind of day

My kind of day
ATTILA THE HUN

(Picture)


{A fish surrounded by inverted exclamation marks, one of which is shaded in.}

Mornings are my favourite time of day – the best occasion for depredations, I always find. I have five cups (made of human skulls) of goats' milk (or maybe vice versa) and then it's off for some good plundering, pillaging etc. Naturally the barbarian hordes and I have a lunch-break and watch Neighbours. We then covet their possessions and finally remove them from them forcibly. But life's not all "slay, slay, slay". There are lots of mouths to feed in my household: 843, in fact, so there's a fair bit of shopping needed. Luckily we've discovered an excellent chain of shopping centres (whose prices are a steal) conveniently widely spread and well stocked – I believe it's called the "Roman Empire" – catchy title.

Circumlocution

My favourite periphrasis

The Modern Greek for a forum is τόπος όπου συζητουνται δημόσια θέματα --> for Liz's benefit, this means (if I can put it so crudely) "a place where popular topics are discussed".

GCSE in surrealism

Oxford, Cambridge and Nether Hartridge Airport Local Examination Board

GCSE Examination in Surrealism – with an option on deconstruction.

Candidates are advised


                              that they may
                              not do this
exam in the bath. {upside down:} Upside-down scripts are stupid.

Time allowed: 4.5 kilometres.

Candidates should answer five lemons (or milk as preferred).
Answers should be affixed to the pope, and eaten with 2 tbsps oats.

1. Who may be termed the "father" of deconstruction? Why couldn't he have used a contraceptive? Where does he live?

25. This is a trick question.

456. {Jagged line graph} <-- What is this?

Blunderbuss or grape?

And now, a tribute to the word "grape".

No: sources close to the prime minister (his inside jacket pocket) have implicated the word "grape" in the Winston Churchill affair. Accusations have flared that a large consignment of grapes were due to be despatched to Andorra, which could have been used to manufacture grapeshot.

Instead, praise should be accorded to the word "blunderbuss", which has such peaceful connotations and is not connected with matters martial at all.

All aboard the milkfloat

Grass is my globule
Sliver is my face
Tablespoons of auntiness
Spongy is my trace.

Origins of polygons
Diachronic sick
Honey, five and piglets
Behind the walking stick.

But when at last they entered out
And grazed the seldom sun
The world collapsed in screaming shout
(And that was much less fun).

So all aboard the milkfloat
We'll gibble down the lane
Arriving after Tuesday
And nibbling bits of brain.

You may declare us bonkers,
Quite rightly, but you're wrong,
For spongy is my haddock-whim
(And eighteen metres long).

The final stanza's name was Fred,
She liked it very much
He stapled it with beetroot seed
And used it in a hutch.

Yes, grass was my grob-yule,
Christmas is my yak,
Ladle me with noodly plobs
And get a whole load back.

The answer is as clear as air,
In Tokyo or Tangerine
And when you ask the reason why,
Touché! That's all it's been...

Utter metaphysic

Routine, or lobster spleen?
Save indigestion
Whether tis older or more like rice pudding
Gibbons dross or utter metaphysic
So to outface, I know not at what table
And cream of eiderdown them
Arise, and beep, or else litiginous bend them
The thousand gravel clocks or ere we weep
And slowly grind them.

{Mirror writing:}
dam gnivar – slee dam llA

Higgledly piggledly ping
My number has married a string
No lemon or tenses
I'm out of my senses
Higgledy piggledy ping.

Delighted          Oh no!
Benighted Said Poe
He sort of And the raven
ignited. Exploded.

The glue is cast

I sometimes think that little loaves of bread
Are grated mink or painted green instead
That every purplish blot upon a face
Reflects some railway station sort of place.

And all the fish we used to know and greet
And grill in butter when we used to meet
Are risen again in many fiendish forms
Potato cakes, and things for mowing lawns.

All such days and all such sad devices
We used for turning clocks and skimming mices
Must now and then be checked for sundry bugs
For steering wheels and mind distorting drugs.

For now the past is longer than the present
The glue is cast, the freaks are full of pheasant
And many a shining hope we once endured
Like dust into the vinegar is poured.

And we at last, O we, we happy few
We words and tupperware, so nearly new
O we have heard, and who had heard us here
Sing thrice nice rice, and maybe half a beer!

Greek Ermintrude, sad basket, proper name
Eureka, lamp post, snippet, crawl of fame
Inured, restored, gelatinous creation
Old bus, angora, some debilitation.

Goatry pitch

GOATRY PITCH

Nobody know
Tiddly pom
How much my toes
Tiddly pom
How orange my nose
Tiddly pom
Are growing.

Nobody cares
Piddly fim
What compost wears
Piddly fim
What polar bears
Piddly fim
Are throwing.

{A wiggly horizontal line bisects an equilateral triangle. Above it hangs a small circle, with another below and to the right. A vertical arrow points down between them through the wiggly line.}

Never again

La Belle ÉpoQue

    ¿Que?

Under Erasure
Under Attack
Attack at dawn
Dawn to dusk
And back again


Never again

Never say never again (again).

    (Sorry.)

Joyeux party

And when you see the Abomination of Desolation set up where it ought not to be then you will know –
        it's
                Noel's House Party

Lovely.


    Joyeux Party
    Joyeux Noël
    Pumpkin Poo
    Aled Jones
    Cavorting Cowpats
    Beadle's Aberk
    Oom Pa Pa
    Grunge Mincely
    Paris in the Boing

Aardvarkiana fulminata

Next week – raked greens and how to append them.

But first, the garden. How does it grow? Here's our wobbling correspondent, Bill Gardenrollerwithrottingmossonit. Bill...

(syrup of horse)


"Good evening and welcome to another packed edition of Aardvark monthly, in which we investigate aardvarkiana. But first – Wilfred the wombat. Or not." The Legio XIV Fulminata advanced on the city.

Snar snarrr biddle de koow

Later this evening, we will be talking to Johnny Ball, who has been a non-Indo-European language for eight months now but was able to recall this interview.

Q. How does it feel, as I'm sure everyone's dying to ask, to be a non-Indo-European language?

[Everyone dies, offstage]

JB. Gno'bbsk aaah tiktik. Greee dddzaby zaby. Great.

Q. So – are there any problems?

JB. Well, it gets pretty boring at weekends, but Tuesdays are good.

Q. Why is that?

JB. I've always liked them. I imagine them small and blue, with lots of feet and hands. And even at weekends, I tell myself "This is more fun than paintball or being Bernard Matthews." I used to play monopoly.

Q. So – goodbye and thank you.

JB. Snar snarrr biddle de koow.

Random people

Tonight on "Wasting Time" we asked a randomly selected group of people "What first drew you to become a randomly selected group of people?" Brian (not his real name) told us: "Well, of course, being a randomly selected group of people, we had never met! But one day I picked up the telephone directory, opened the phone and called Shirley (not his real name). I asked him whether he would like to become part of a randomly selected group of people, and he said 'Piss off.' I reminded him that he would be a genuine representative of a minority group if he wore women's clothes. He said 'When do we start?'"

Not sleeves

Perhaps the most authentic recording is that of Scubi with the Plovdiv piano players, accompanied by the Tomsk Tractor Drivers (on the pianoes – now sadly crushed). Their moving rendition (of the pianists) is well recorded, and the only complaint is the ungenerous lay-out of the recordings: for a piece 72' (more on weekdays) long, 3 CD's are used. This in itself would be bad value, but combined with the 2 "free" tractors and 5 hectares of rainforest, and retailing at $20001, this really is just a collector's item.

Lastly there is the radical version of Vladimir Vladikovsky with the Radical Symphony Auditor and the Ankara amateur accountants. This is certainly the most competitive recording, though is spoiled somewhat by the inexplicable garotting of the entire cast and crew only five minutes after the beginning. This has minimal impact on the interpretation, which is distributed on two CD's and a grapefruit (or a lemon in France).

The first choice thus remains the pioneering recording of the Orlando amateur party-goers, with its inspired coupling of the piece with Bluov's Concerto for vacuum cleaner da gamba and goat.

Sleeve notes

Show-wadi(wadi). Collected works for oboe and string vest.

Several versions of this ambitious and lengthy work have been brought out recently. The work was originally commissioned by the BBC for the signature tune for Come Dancing, but was drastically expanded to form a War Requiem, doubling as a fridge-freezer on weekends. Its first performance came on a Sunday night, unfortunately, and the disappointed audience reacted badly to gannets on sticks rather than a Requiem. Further revision of the work was undertaken until it emerged in its final form – a good four stone lighter and "fighting fit".

The most satisfactory version of this piece is that recorded by the LSO under Dorati, though it was recorded in 1956, four years before the final revision, and regrettably on a Sunday (q.v.). Hence this version can only be recommended to freaky ice-cream lovers. But it's still better than the music.

No one is sane

                 I
N
C
GO
SPAM AH
G NICEHERENT
A IN COHBRNT
incohERENTF GARBLE
B BF U ENT
G GLRABBLE B T
INCOHERENT B
B R IN COHERENT
B G A S U
E A S H M
RUBBISHYFISHSTALKSU
R H S
E
L
{A scroll, on which is written "MIND THE MIND".}

{Drawing of a stick person} <-- Gnomic Aorist
(or was he/she/it/them/quid).

IN A HOUSE LIKE 39 WILLIAM STREET
NO ONE IS SANE

{The O of NO contains a smiley face, the O of ONE contains a frowney face, and a tiny figure jumps a vast distance from the top of the S of SANE into a splash at the foot of the page.}

Smelly on wheels

The Garotid Artery {Arrow in archery target}

"ARTERIES AND ARTICHOKES – A VEGETARIAN COOKBOOK FOR CANNIBALS"
{author's name heavily crossed out} (nice mess)
by Paul D. Arthurwan.


{A large spotty frog crouches in the corner of the page, thinking the word MEGATHERIUM. The frog is labelled [Green].}

Stinkig
Smelly
Fetora
Odoreux

Good evening.
Here is the word SMELLY.

{It's written on the side of a trolley, from which an arrow points right, suggesting movement.}

{Now the word itself has wheels, and is hurtling down a hill towards a deep pit containing "R. Maxwell (dead)" and a substance that emits the words PONG, NIFF, WHIFF, POO and STINKY.}


Pong --> pong --> stinky --> stinkier --> stinkiest. Thank you.

Gnu gnows?

GNOME

{A gnome fishing. A large and viciously-toothed fish leaps from the water.}


Gnomore

{The fish has its jaws clamped around the gnome's head.}

Gnu gnows?

{An antlered beast with a glowing light bulb above its head.}

{Speech bubble:} INTERSTICES

Gno one gnows how gnus grows,
Gnohow.

Gnood bye.

Loose sprocket

TO BE KÓNTINUDE YANG CHOBS.

The parallel universe in which the above makes sense has a much impoverished kulchur.

The parallel universe in which the above makes sense and the Prime Minister of Albania is a loose sprocket with a robust nose may, in some time of space, have centrifugally imploded.

Nostradamus: No me gusta las naranjas.

¿Te gusta el tiempo?

Q-ogonek

The Dne

{mirror writing} ™2991 DAM GNIVAR ©

{An upside-down roadsign that says GIVE WHY. Speech bubbles around it say PTONG, PTING and PTERANODON.}

And finally on BBC2 this yawning, the gratuitous word "bladder". Thank you.

FX: Universe ignites.

QUIT {box, ticked}

d'ausgeherumbeaufαποφλέγματig

γαρβαγε

Q-OGONEK has returneδ! {a huge back-to-front cedilla attached to a capital Q}

{scribbly lines}

Oh dear
        I've gone insane
                When did it happen
        Some time from now

Niffly
Snibbledy hobbledy

Doing the doo

GRAMS: Sig. (3rd time)

NARRATOR: And now, before the credit sequence, let us continue the plot, which (you will recall, dear listener) involved Arthur, Theodora and the Pope (stapled to the ceiling).

FX: Pope stapled to ceiling (if not available, use Pope stapled to cat).

ARTHUR: So, Popey, back the death penalty, would you?

THEODORA: Try and have 2 P's in your name, would you?

ARTHUR: He thought he saw an argument—

LEWIS CARROLL: Ah, that gives me an idea!

POPE: And from all of us here in this celebrity tank of custard-gunge, in nomine Christi, Amen and Good knight!

FX: Radio explodes; people screaming in their beds as they are devoured by flames in the final holocaust.

FX: An entire eternity of nothing, followed by silence and the latenight weather forecast.

GRAMS: Betty Boo, Doing the Doo.

ANNOUNCER (too much reverb): Good knife!

GRAMS: Sig. (792nd time)

This is Radio 6

NARRATOR (backwards): Gogrilla Mincefriend, a strange being from the Pyrotechnic of Manhatter, is now thought by certain leading experts in psycho-chromatography to be the world's least yellow and most disturbingly disarming instantly reversible black paisley sofa bed.

FX: Narrator demolished by bulldozer.

GRAMS: Sig. Roobarb & Custard (backwards).

ANNOUNCER: This is Radio 6. This is Radio 5. This is Radio 4. This is Radio 3. This is Radio 2. This is Radio 1. This is Radio...

FX: Announcer drowned out in smoke and flames; he blasts off to the moon.

NARRATOR: Bit stuck on after signature tune, using echo (FX), flange (FX) and reverb (FX), including a delightful potato trifle made, eaten and sent in by Mrs Q. J. Kerrison of Nos Irrek J.Q., Sunnyville, California. She can be contacted at this number:

CART: (jingly) 010-349-8625-765892

FX: Cat stapled to roof.

And so the cosmos began

FX: Shoe peeled off wall.

NARRATOR: And so the cosmos began.

GRAMS: Sig. Roobarb & Custard.

NARRATOR: Many people have speculated that if we knew exactly why the word "tarambibobulania" exists and what it is here for, we would know a whole lot more about the nature of life, the wildebeest and fish 'n' chip shops. Others claim that life never existed anyway and that all organic biology is merely a figment of its own, deranged, imagination. In this awkward dilemma, the best solution seems to be...

FX: Narrator explodes.

GRAMS: Last Post.
rapidly mixed through to
Scott Joplin, Entertainer.
Fade.

FX: Sudden burst of applause.
Gorilla noises.
Omelette dropped.

GRAMS: Pink Panther.

Toothpost

"Orstrilian"

{Assorted scribbles}

floaty toothpost

goaty poothghost

ghosty doldrums

etc.

{A word pokes its head out of the ground, and thinks "MM?". It is about to be stepped on by an enormous shoe.}

Mattock blubber

Enough of this fruitcake-iana.

Take 5 upturned rhododendrons, add 15 words (with or without punctuation), 6 gear changes, and 250g Wales blubber. Divide it by four geese. Add liquid wombat and stirfried lampshade. Garotte quietly until mildly pink; leave in shade until gibbering nicely (or wielding a mattock). Then put in arena and execute lightly with Christians (wild animals optional).

Eric the Warhammer adds, "This is one of my favourites. For best results do this one on a Friday (or in a microwave). A little Castrol GTX always helps – or Australian whine."


shurely "Orstraliun".

– Waffle.

Wooble

()----> storeys or stories?!

()----> millennium!

Sometimes I think I'm the only one who can smell decently round here.
()---->

Sometimes I just think.

<----() Sometimes I don't.

()----> My word's got no knows.

"Wooble." {upside-down} Gibber

I think too, sometimes. "Woobble."

Meaningless myth

Creation Myth VI

God only did it
To make a name for himself.
Then he discovered
That he was being simplistic;
By that time
It was too late.

Goodnight, and meaningless.

Custard fungus

P.S. One more for the menu:

Grandma's Special Fungal Growths in Broad Bean and Whisky Sauce with Gunge, Grapenuts and Unwaxed Dental Floss. With chips and stimulated custard. Serve intravenously.


Unwashed Dental Floss, maybe? <----()

That would be disgusting!

42 Vico Road, Dublin

[a brimstone-redolent whiff of propaganda? surely not]

But lo! Fortunatamento! The indigenous, (op)pressed minority at 5, Oak Crescent, Littlehampton, Mr. R. B. Treadle (diminished) of 17, The Beeches, Aberystwyth (forthwith) telephoned his twin-town and uncle Mr. Benjamin Tiberius Chang of 42 Vico Road, Dublin (just like the population of 5 Oak Crescent, Littlehampton), and explained, in Greek: "Help! It's a bit Chile round here! Can I come and live in your country bin with my 1.2 billion non-communicants?"

"Sorry, mate," responded Chang, giving a funny receiver-shake. "But 7,999,999 colleagues, fellow travellers and hairy morris-dancers are just staying for the millenium
()---->, it's so convenient."

Chang realised that his brothers, unlike Treadle's, were of luminous goat-gravel numerousness, and cleaned his shoes.

Treadle was a truly wise man and buggered off to be a Buddhist monk.

Moral: Only the Jolly Green Giant has enough toes.

5 Oak Crescent, Littlehampton

The language spoken by most people in the world is Chinese. The trouble is that they all live in one place: all 1.2 billion of them recently moved to 5 Oak Crescent, Littlehampton, where they live comfortably with their wives and 0.3 (billion) children. The community of Littlehampton has welcomed the move, tho' plans for an extension to the home were recently turned down by the council.

"They were very well set out proposals, but they did involve annexinig all of Western Europe for the extension."

So in the meantime the house is somewhat crowded, and has 523 stories.
()---->

NEXT WEEK: All the English speakers converge on Canton to set up a Chinese take-away.

Honest Frint's

P.S. "Disembowelled leprous cockroach with recognisable chunks of chewy throat and mongoose-cabbage, all melted together and injected into your bloodstream with a disused biro, and teabags" was not included, on the grounds that some readers/diners might find it offensive.

at...

Honest Frint's Cruddy Eating-Shed

(only if you're drinking
    a. Bacardi
    b. bath-water
    c. soap)

Goodnight.


d) Aubergine ovaltine
e)
f)
g)
h

Sunday crunch

SPECIAL FOR SUNDAY

Worms in Margarine
Tongue Full of Nails
Melon with Carcass of Bison
Wart and Thistle Soup

---

Roast Skunk and Bristling Loo
Steaming Flodge in Spiky Tortoise
Tortured Bovine Vomit
Crispy Platter of Muscles and Grass
Ripped Stomach in Phlegm

---

Lumpy Stodgecake
Blue Vegetables Baked in Liver
Your Own Thigh... In A Pie
Foul Uvulas with Gangrene
Mandarin Oranges in Skin and Frogs

---

Liquidised Chef In His Own Veins

Yesterday's regurge

    Yesterday's Regurge

Starkers:

    Silicon Porridge with Medicine
    Fruit Juice and Forehead in Luke-Warm Washing-Up Water
    Chip Pan Smashed on your Elbow
    Filthy Tractor Tyres in Mince

Puke:

    Dish of the Day (14 August 1932, when the Chef made it)
    Stained Utensils dipped in pig's entrails for no reason
    Antlers with Armpits
    Fire Extinguisher Fluid and Tipp-Ex Full of Horse Dung and Rubbish
    Strangely Unpleasant Cocktail of Rabbit's Fur and Video Tape
    Googly Wumple combed slightly into a Horrible Fricassée of Yak Grit
    Toothpaste and Gravel Painted into your Eyes by our delightful herring-do Grumbo the Moist

Greek Sick:

    Moussaka with protruding limbs soaked too long in retsina and ketchup
    Taramosalata with an interesting smell of fish-bones and garotting
    Ouzo with stuffed gibbon and something
    Goatburger made entirely out of recycled coat-hangers, coated in a disturbingly crunchy spread of sprouts and spider-mulch

Deserters:

    Liquidised Carrots and Shaving Cream
    Cherry Waste, drooled over by a brainless quadruped
    Unwashed Bed Full of Astonishing Numbers of Eels and other Surprises
    Pie with Bucket
    Knees on Toast, plus Cabbage and Saliva
    Sickly Gratings of Rhinoceros Tusk in Water

And Finally:

    Flambéed Chef in an Onion Batter

Tomorrow's rotty

    TOMORROW'S ROTTY

Splatters:

    Festering Woodlice Braised in Mould
    Bubbling Cowpats Garnished with Rust, Snot and Feathers
    Courgettes Allowed to Disintegrate for a Month in a Hoover Bag
    Emulsion and Varnish
    Cod Liver Oil mixed with Blood and Sweat, dropped from a height onto a gallon of instant mashed potato

Composts:

    Singed Newspapers Flushed into the Sewer and Belched At by a Dozen Rats
    Gunge of Flab
    Seaweed, Splodge and Shoe Polish pukily draped over the contents of the Chef's Lavatory's U-Bend
    Rotting Teatowels and Yoghurt pumped full of Hair and Teabags
    Pieces of Table Hacked Up and Blended into a Soothing Implosion
    Human Face Full of Wasps, in a Flan

Brain Courses:

    Thick Slices of Scab and Nostril Scrapings Ladled with Honey and Pong
    Shattered Omelette with Teeth
    A Whole Barrowload of Cauliflower Trodden In by Elephants, with Mercury Gobs
    Tripe and Shampoo, mixed, sneezed at, and thrown out of the window, scraped out of the manhole and poured over your head
    Casserole of Curtains and Chef's Anatomy

Desert:

    Arable Land in Snow-White Puddle
    Bonfire Ash Heaped Artistically and coated in sticky dribble and wrists
    Rubble with Doormat and Squashed Cat
    Cheesecake Which Explodes
    Mirrored Pudding with Pigeon Droppings
    Terrible Trifle made of Udders and Stones

Still completely other