In a manner of speaking…

Crumpscoddle.

A herd of hairy humplecrimps, buckets of snozzcumbers, served before strawbunkles and cream and followed by a large bottle of frobscottle.

Sloshfunking wraprascals and a nest of squizzly scotch-hoppers, a few puddlenuts and a gobblefunking fizzwinkle, to name just a few.

It’s not only hopscotchy, it’s whoopsey-splunkers – and I don’t dally with my words – I’m not switchfidding you, talking rommytot or flushbunking and, neither am I cockles.

Call me a swinebuggler or a pigswiller but I’ll never be your bloodbottler.

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If you want to give you binlids a proper education in storytelling, you better adam and eve it, I swear from the bottom of my jam tart, there is only one heap of coke who puts the best dicky birds together and that is my absolute all time hero Mr Roald Dahl.

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Not only did he write The BFG in the most scumdiddlyumptious, ringbeller wonderveg fashion, he created Mugglewump, The RolyPoly Bird, Mr & Mrs Twit, Charlie Bucket, Augustus Gloop, Grandmamma and many, many more.

This man is a wordsmith like no other and he is my turtle dove.

Pea. S. Quentin Blake is damn Robin Hood too.