Arnie the Armadillo

Arnie the armadillo, the lovable children's character, was a bit fed up. "I want to break out of children's TV and books, and to cut a new identity for myself," he mused. And so he did – on the next Blue Peter he ate the presenters (much against his better – herbivorous – nature) and three children, as well as a camera. But this last proved to be his undoing, since he failed to digest and died as a result.

Moral: people taste better than cameras, but you're better off being a vegetarian. Oh yes, and don't be an armadillo.

They called him Arnie – and he had a TV camera stuck in his chest.

Next... Bernie the bat!

Hipporhinostricow

{An antenna-headed person – with huge clown feet and a triangular body with the letter Q on it – stands with their impossibly long and twisty wirelike arms outstretched. The end of one arm is a lit fuse. The person says "hipporhinostricow".}

And the Albanian Sausage Corporation will be back on your screams in December (shiver).

[Alf, the vorglic shiver-floth – aaghh, it's... Nostalgia!]

But now on Channel Nought, it's time for more goings-on down under in Slimy Pong.

Let's welcome your ghost,
        Henryyyyy <snortysniff>.

Slip-ups in the ethereal

2 spellos in 3 pages – not ++ good.
    (here, were...)
before they were condemned to a
pickle of violence:
nincompoops
nincombobulationary – see "armadillo-vat"

For other and less exemplarisings,
please shout to the many for only
it can reveal.
Ode to a Greasy Urn.
Old socks in cold coffee.
Full flavour forty rose the fifth hungred.

(Excerpts from mad™ scholar's latest fragment compilation – collect the lot, one inside every packet of Sicko Flodges – "Several Seminal Slip-Ups in the Ethereal").

My God – he's been away TOO long...

Disclaimers

Expression is a two-edged fish. (Heraclitus)

It is sensible, but not profound, to believe in gravity.

The unrecognisability of the characters in fictions may, or may not, indicate that they are not allegorical at all. Shut up.

"The reductive planks and decks of the fundamentally erroneous, in excess of ideas, clearly remain to be deconstructed."

or,

"Work that one out."

{The letter B, then a scene of seagulls and a sailboat bobbing on the liquid contained in the letter U}

{The whole is enclosed in a speech bubble that emanates from a tiny stinking creature, labelled "NOWWHATTIAN BOGHOG (q.v.)"}

A good morning

"Confoundedly pompous old git" thought the veritable biographer. Half an hour later he approached his correspondent's doorstep and was not surprised to see an example of his eccentricity – a message pinned to the door, which read:

    "It is indeed a good morning when we can be certain of things."

The veritable biographer ground his teeth slightly, as at an name taken in vain. He removed the notice, which was obscuring the doorbell as if it both intended to hide and to draw attention to it. "He wants me to think he's out!" he thought, and extended a finger towards the bell.

The 16-ton weight demolished the porch completely. All that was left of the veritable biographer were the reverberating springs of a metaphysic which always had run slightly slow.

Moral: Never were ?! a monocle in your ear.

Veritable biographer

Memoirs for an ex-Nazi concerning a credulous biographer

The veritable biographer arose and aired his prejudices; though they were numerous there remained definite favourites. He placed his monocle in his ear the better to here ?! his cornflakes; the absence of snap, crackle and pop was clearly negligible. He congratulated himself briefly. He poured a cup of tea, remarking the reliability of such concrete truths as the electric kettle. Then he opened his letters, avoiding subclauses. His brow clouded, already encountering nasty descriptive bits and even metaphors. That an exterior irritation should trivially suggest that the sun of intellect might be clouded! The letter read:

Dear V.B.,

        I am sure that you will fail to appreciate why I am incapable either of authorising or refusing to authorise your optimistic labours. Sufficient to say that I will not endorse them, and suggest that you devote yourself to enlightenment of more useful kinds. If you insist upon visiting me, I can give you nothing more than "Good morning".

        Yours, etc.

Limerick extension

A man who fought like a wildcat
Got injured in some unarmèd combat
He received an injection
But in the wrong direction
And lived out his years as a wombat.

There once was a man who extended the length of a limerick. This he defended
With gusto, asserting "Had it ended
Some lines heretofore
It would have meant war
The lines will continue
Lest the limerick devalue
And the economy therefore becomes upended.

(This type of limerick to be discontinued.)

Credulous student

Memoires for a credulous student, concerning an ex Nazi

^ the passage from spelling mistake to allusion is allusively duplicitous.

I can remember the day well. The great man had just got up, and was wearing his favourite swastika pyjamas. He had put on his monocle – on his head, one of his well-known idiosyncracies – and sat down for lunch. He always insisted on having lunch before breakfast, you see. "For what constitutes lunch? May it not be the same as breakfast? Besides, oatcakes taste nicer for lunch." An excellent example of his razor-sharp reasoning. "Good morning" he would say, intimating that in some sense the morning was "good", yet at the same time subtly undermining his own words by releasing a 16-ton weight on your head. He was endowed with a large sense of humour, which he kept in a jar by the door. But I digress – but digression aids digestion, as the old man would say...

Megabeggar

There once was a king who was mega
Then he went through the guts of a beggar
(Which was "Hamlet", and which
Was not a ham sandwich)
And seventeen plates of fried egger.

"Where am I?" enquired Arthur.
"On the page" said the page.
"No, you're supposed to say 'in Glasgow'."

There once was a boghole called Glasgy
Which in no way had heard of Bing Crosby,
When they claimed that this rhyme
Was ahead of its thyme,
Basil (sage/dill) an(i)seed, "Mustarve Parsley".

(Eh?!)