Millimillillimilimeter and Earwicker

But it was still too stagey. "We need an audience!" cried the Pope, entering the storyline and tumbling skelter-helter from the fifth storey (line! Evitable! Effable! Smellilille!)

    "Millimillillimilimeter," couldn't pronounce Carswell.

    "Quartz glyph job vex'd cwm finks," said Pangram, appropriately.

    "Tararaboomdeay," screeched Karswell, jumping on his misspelt presqu'-namesake and painting him as greeny-mauve as the seven great greeby Marnocks of Vung. But then, as if by intertextuality,

    Earwicker appeared, like an arthropod scampering between negative spaces. Earwicker appeared, to arbitrate homophonously between Carswell and Carswell. "The Tsar is dead!" he said, "Like Beerbohm Tree — you reminded me. And Wagner. But the inhabitants of our head are alive and written." Karswell and Karswell shook hands. "But you're covered in paint!" said the Czar; the Pope said nothing, and presently popped. Meanwhile... James Galway was playing "The Flight of the Signifier" arranged for cracked cornet and broken violin.

"Melted maelstrom" explained James Galway, and detruded his flute back into his middle nostril. Whelp!