Nonsense

I was waiting for a bus not like the ones you see, you see, but these episcopalian and gauche conveyances that trolley fat pensioners around as they wait for St Peter, when I was rudely interupppppppted by an overly friendly HAT salesman or as the case may be, person, who ignited my passion for trilbies and eggs, trilbies and eggs, it's all the same to a dying man, a hat is an egg and an egg is a hat, is a hat, is it, it is, yes, I have a way with wild animals, they can smell fear and I have no fear, apart from that of lifts, and animals don't understand elevators, one of their most appealing features I think, they have no need for these in the wild, or escalators or any form of moving apparatus for people, I suppose because they aren't, people that is, animals, are they, surely not, oh well the bus never came, the hat vendor kept on haranguing me and my friend Mr Fnipss, who doesn't even have a head, so the concept of hats is beyond him, as are most concepts, for headless Fnipss doesn't got, as they say in small towns east of Philadelphia, where the Rosicrucians and Christadelphians had their roots, or their origins, that is to say where they began, yours entirely without provocation,

Hernley Von Plastiberry OCH