100 Staples have meetings not legs

Dear NABC

“Has Soggy Tomash neutralized the boatymen yet?” enquired Vendetta-Saab (the Swedish automobile that liked to hold onto a grudge) as he Brenda Parks needs her front garden tidying up like not eating trubs, pubs or Witchitty Grubs! So, Holland & Barrett adverts away to bed please and as this was going on, a silver halide suspended in an amniotic cortex of 2nd-chain radicals became sausage-like and earned itself a stylishly flamboyant extra brownie point extra (extra) by examining trains and thinking about the ramifications of them in period costume a la per pro regardez les dance by D. Bowie.

This had been noted by Marcus who had shone a giddy-light into a crucible full of shape-shifters who were besmirched with the colour of the writing in the kebab shop which was now moving silently throughout the neutral zone they go on about in Star Trek agan + agin = again. This is hoping to again just about prove what kind of a thing he must possibly know about Tobermory Plunkett, him whose, whose mum has been dressed by Mike Pike who got the gig after demonstrating how not to confuse things with geese at last year’s Nettleton Rd Raft Water Race which was cancelled when bison fell on a passing bare bear, there-there, Trafalgar Square and knock-knocks on the joke.

“Can anyone vouch for Podmaster?” was the freely designed sequel to the Garden of Apes whereby Jerrim Locktassel was boyishly feeding chimps with a back to basics bag of bits as he watched The Brits, swam with Mark Spitz and a form of Tourettes when he used to point at tractors and nod sagely even though his shuttlecraft motif was wearing a bit thin now and there was dust along the top of the radiator in the mince pies.

We will never know because Mickey hasn’t told us.