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board (trying to copy the stage Englesemen he broughts their
house down on, shouting: Bravure, surr Chorles! Letter purfect!
Culossal, Loose Wallor! Spache!) how he had been toed out of
all the schicker families of the klondykers from Pioupioureich,
Swabspays, the land of Nod, Shruggers' Country, Pension
Danubierhome and Barbaropolis, who had settled and stratified
in the capital city after its hebdomodary metropoliarchialisation
as sunblistered, moonplastered, gory, wheedling, joviale, litche-
rous and full, ordered off the gorgeous premises in most cases on
account of his smell which all cookmaids eminently objected to
as ressembling the bombinubble puzzo that welled out of the
pozzo. Instead of chuthoring those model households plain
wholesome pothooks (a thing he never possessed of his Nigerian
own) what do you think Vulgariano did but study with stolen
fruit how cutely to copy all their various styles of signature so as
one day to utter an epical forged cheque on the public for his own
private profit until, as just related, the Dustbin's United Scullery-
maid's and Househelp's Sorority, better known as Sluttery's
Mowlted Futt, turned him down and assisted nature by unitedly
shoeing the source of annoyance out of the place altogether and
taytotally on the heat of the moment, holding one another's
gonk (for no-one, hound or scrublady, not even the Turk, un-
greekable in purscent of the armenable, dared whiff the polecat
at close range) and making some pointopointing remarks as they
done so at the perfects of the Sniffey, your honour, aboon the
lyow why a stunk, mister.
    [Jymes wishes to hear from wearers of abandoned female cos- 
tumes, gratefully received, wadmel jumper, rather full pair of
culottes and onthergarmenteries, to start city life together. His
jymes is out of job, would sit and write. He has lately commited
one of the then commandments but she will now assist. Superior
built, domestic, regular layer. Also got the boot. He appreciates
it. Copies. ABORTISEMENT.]
    One cannot even begin to post figure out a statuesquo ante 
as to how slow in reality the excommunicated Drumcondriac,
nate Hamis, really was. Who can say how many pseudostylic