Blogista : Here's a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old turning the key.
Knocking withinBlogista : Knock, knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of Beelzebub?
Readers : 'Tis we, an' wish to know, who won the Competition and the Prize.
Blogista : No chance you'll hang yourself in th'expectation of plenty, I s'pose.
Readers : Nooooooooooooooooooooooo.
Blogista : Oh very well, then.
The aim was to fit the words "august", "mackle", "wayworn" and "onomatopeed" into a single sentence. Only not like I just did.
We tickled Mr. David's belly to no avail. Mr. Mad Dog circled but, despite blood in the water, did not come in for the kill.
A Mr. Chertiozhnik put up a splendid show, but in the final analysis
I trailed her august ladyship halfway across Europe, and, finally able to despatch her in her hotel room at the skiing resort of Gurgl Obergurgl, by strangulation so that her last utterances onomatopeed with the place name, I obtained an extra frisson as I stepped back, crushing the mackled lenses of her lorgnettes under my wayworn bootheel - for this was the Hotel Crystal.
suffered from too many subclauses and a mad protagonist. Any fool can do the Mad Protagonist, Mr. C.
Update: there is, in fact, a Hotel Crystal in Gurgl Obergurgl. This may be a confession rather than a fiction. We have alerted the relevant authorities.
Brevity is the soul of wit, which is why Ms. O'Hara's questing and perky
Would the Onamatopeed mackle its wayworn self across an august tome?
sweeps away with the Prize... ...the earlist known prosthetic in human history, a toe, and crafted quite possibly before the foundation of Rome itself.