Oh freddled gruntbuggly, thy micturations are to me, as plurdled gabbleblotchits, in midsummer morning on a lurgid bee, that mordiously hath blurted out Its earted jurtles, grumbling into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer. Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts and living glupules frart and stipulate like jowling meated liverslime. Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes and hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles mashurbitries, or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon... see if I don't!
