The Limerick Squad

"Buffoon?" screeched Professor Karswell, reemerging into the plot from a nasty oily puddle of mulch where he had been squashed when a particularly heavy text (it was the "Plena Ilustrita Vortaro de Esperanto") had clunked him on the head.

    "Buffoon" squawked Professor Igloo, who was Karswell's antimatter doppelgänger (twice removed with a spanner before inserting cartridge D; do not connect blue wire to green fuse without full insurance first) and expired. (Tax disc, and the.)

    "Where's the fishy?" said Professor Karsill, who had gone potty. He pottered round the potty, going potty, and battered round the batty going batty, it said on the door, please don't spit on the floor, so he stood up and spat on the BANG!!!

    "No one expects the Limerick Squad," shrieked Michael Palin, who was now an hour-and-a-half late. Everyone looked at their watches, but since they were all made of marzipan and fondue, they watched their looks instead (at).

    "Is this yours?" asked the rancid rebellious Palin, seeing the Bowyers' Tinned Steak and Kidney Texty-Pie and picking it up. But it screamed in displeasure and refused not to be replaced on the amazing new ultra-strong in-room personal gravity compensator (the floor). "I wasn't born yesterday!" it squealed. "I was born tomorrow!"

    "Impossible," laughed Professor Karsill.

    "Impothible," said Sylvester.

    "I tought I taw a puddy-tat," squeaked Texty-Pie.

    "3.141592653589794..." squirmed Texty-π.

    "Where's the fishy?" said Professor Karswell, who still hadn't found it (insert innuendo here: __________). But there was too much weather in the boot, and they all died happily ever after, and other things what begins with a Q.