Into the sunset

"A plague upon the foul fiend! Tom's a-cold." Lonely as a cloud and twice as mauve, Charlie recoiled from the beginning as if always already. "But it did sound vaguely familiar."

"I took you for a joint-stool." No — seven and a quarter.

"How" said the eggs.

"No — how?" Five and a half, apart from the goat.

"And then some," exclaimed the captain. "Ahoy there. Shiver me timbers. Hoist the mainsail. Keel-haul the yard arm."

Enough navalities. "Me too," rejoined Theo, and together they sailed into the sunset. "Oops," they said. "It's a bit hot here."

"SALVATION" is the name of the game (-show host). But all was merry and bliss. (Wedded bliss, Wedded blitz).

Rewind

In walked Charlie the all-grated Grate Luddleggy Moffo of Mabblewib, shouting for all he was word, leering, blearing, steering and alkali, and all the monks were fission chipmunks. Hahahahahaha

    "Stop it!" "you're driving me insane" "Aaaaaaagggh!"

    He pushed the REWIND button, and screamed in a voice that could have frozen hydrogen, "Remember this?"

{On a scroll, imitating the appropriate handwritings}

Six eggs, half a kilo of elephants, and a tin of text. Stir well until indemnified. Serves 25, 36 on weekends, 5 in a leap year.

"This will not (therefore) have been a book." Already it is too late. Hurricane Ian MacCaskill is a found poem. There can be no guarantees, and they must be very small elephants. No two numbers are alike and I, too, have lost my umbrella.

Monstrous plagues and bubblery!

Vedic doodles

{Drawing of a stick person in the lotus position, labelled "Pole". Below them: upward-pointing arrows and whizz lines, labelled "Vedic flying". Above: the word REaLITY in a cloud, labelled "invAlid cApitAl A". To one side: a picture of a book, with THE BOOK on its front cover, and (with the letters individually mirrored) EHT KOOB on its back cover.}

{mirror writing}
,noitcelE eht niw ytraP waL larutaN eht fi, lleW"
".truohgoY agoY ym tae ll'I
(odranoeL)

{mirror writing}
gnitirw fo gninnigeb eht si koob eht fo dne ehT

{mirror writing, also upside-down}
niaga nigeb ,nagenniF

{mirror writing}
{scrawl} ecno

To  .uoyknahT
begin dne eht
at the   osla
beginning  sI

            G
 A        N
   R    I
     AM
    R  B
  A      L
F          E

£200000000000000000 COULD BE YAWNS!

SATOR
AREPO
TENET
OPERA
ROTAS

Rubbish: {three lines of text in a non-existent writing system}

Type BURBLEBURGER for NAFFLE.

Tyre TYRO for RAFFLE.

Go BANG for BANGLE.

Enough now. Back to the plop --->

Relative madmen

"That is hispanological, captain," interrupted Captain Hornblower, addressing himself. "We don't want any more of that as we raid the Spanish Main — or is it Mane — or even Maine." And if this were reflected on a national level, it would mean that the UK was completely mad. See fig. 1 for current polls (Poles — ed) (ed who? Ed) on relative madmen.

                                        /\
|        __________                    /  \
|       |          |   _____________  /    \
|       |          |  /             \/ Liz's\
|_______|          | /               \  new  \__
|       |          |/                 \trousers/
| Simon | Geoffrey |       Liz        |       |
|       |          |                 /        |
|_______|__________|________________/_________|____

But after the visit of Judith, and assorted schoolfriends of Liz, the swingometer™ (Peter Snow) indicates that the situation now looks like this:

                                         This could
   'TEXT'  'HELLO'   'BOG  'LABOUR'          be you
|   ___ )    ___ )    OFF'    ___ )    ___    (just
|  /   \    /   \        )   /   \    /   \tear off
|  \___/    \___/    __/__   \___/    \___/the form
|    |       _|_     __\__     |        |     below
|  \_|_/    / | \      /      \|/      \|/ and send
|    |        |                |        |     $5 to
|   / \      / \              / \      / \   me ...
|______\________\________________\________\________
    Liz     Simon   British  Geoffrey
                     Rail
                   backwards

Grammatological pap

"Aachooptkq^w3" lied Mrs Pumblechook.

That is grammatological, birdseye.

"Aranjasquiddle" is a very odd wordseye. Some scientips beloove it behoves from the 14^th millenniummiunmummymoomoo BC/BD/AQ. But I disagree, me I say "ningi" in very very very {scrawl} illegible handwriting, "Pap!"

Language, Timotei!

Mr Spock teleported down from the Enterprise. "Glas?" he queried. "That is illogical, Craptain." This format has been was with God and manglewurzle bits of cement drip drip drip he went. None could

{A few words in a non-existent writing system}
    (language, Timotei!)

The plot stood up, stood down, won the Election and then strode off in an entirely new dissection. "Sarajevo!" came the cry. "Apple crumble," came the
pie
п

                   nibal!"
                   Misplaced quotreəг-
                   г^~/

{dribbles away into the non-existent writing system}

Orighkinal siggn

                   "Who's Ed?" asked the

In one column,     different text, always
however, things    already.  "But I think  "The green
were beginning     we've got Hannibal!"     is either."
to happen.  The    "Is it catching?" asked "The author
text had got Han-  the Plot.  "So is the    is dead."
nibal, but Mañuel  nature of the sign," it     Barthes
was preserved by   responded, "I can sing  "The author
incomprehension    a rainbow three."  It    is wet."
— and pickling.    had survived because        Bath
"¿Que?" he asked.  the clipf was only      "I do love
"¡Que!" said a     connotative.             Bath."
caveman, pointing.  "Ugug," he continued, pointing
to himself.  So the sign fell.  "Clank!" it went, on
Mañuel's head.  "Orighkinal Siggn," he read.  "This
way up."  "I know that!"  said the caveman, "I wrote
it!"  "So writing really did come first!" Mañuel
clucked.  "That's why chickens all say 'book, book'."

        This format has been discontinued
        for reasons of tedium and indifference.
        The hills are alive!  Heil!  Good
        morning.

Wyrd biþ ful araede custard