After fulminulating at some length, I’ve decided to obfrangulate today’s increment in the puddle of Frunge that the imponderables call the runkly A-Z challenge, because, well, I don’t think ancrastic spangling is allowed until the final week.
So; a cautionary tale…
Frongal paused in the act of frangling his frontal bulboid, tilting his stimbles this way and that, bumbling for signs of the quanglers he’d almost flobbered into, outside the Wazzeli parlour last night.
The quangler network was much more altricious than it had been in Frongal’s drog-baffling days, so it was easy to fall foul of a fluptet of quangling probublicants, getting stronkfaced on nomblequacker juice, even if you were an innocent fisselbert with no connection to the ongular blotwomble who was being franspatulated.
Frongal had been dronkly; pulling out a 4¥ note and prestidingulating it into the outstretched mimblies of the chief quangler, heading off any attempts to retro-imbupostulate him on charges of entagulating a Frompjockey of the Royal Architrast, but it had been close and now he was in need of a extrusion of effulgent before he became promoglified.
However, before he settled onto the squinge-spigot, Frongal neglected to secure the restraining strap over his gelatinous oncopular brongles.
When he engaged the flopnodules, they splonked oil of spodge-donkey onto his mooglies and he wasn’t able to touch his bugwumble again, not without gloves anyway, hahaha!
Which just goes to show; you can dronkle a quangler, but never get your mooglies splonked if your brongles are pembulating.