As it was after eight of the clock and I was in a particularly ecbatic frame of psyche, I decided to oscillate by the publican’s place of business and masticate the rind for a short sojourn. Swinging open the door dyspeptically, I offered my hearty felicities to the barkeep.
‘Is it not an octamerous day outside?’ I proffered. ‘The firmament is tetravalent with hodometry and the avian population is positively miasmic in its pulchritude.’
‘Oh Christ,’ vociferated the proprietor sacrilegiously. ‘It’s you again.’