Nativiloppers

Once upolly-tito, in a land far awale, a young matrimole travellit for the count’n’census all checkly-box present’n’correckers there.

Joseph trickly-how along the roam with Mary all two-square on the botty astrile a donkey, seekit accomodakers.  Weary weary all eye-rubbit and achey in the legbole, they turned the corm and spied a taverl all glittery in the dark there. 

Jospeh rattatat on the doorclabber, and out stepped the innkeep, who doffly cap and questit “Pintly bitter and a dry-white?” 

“Oh no” said Joseph. “All knackerit from the travelode, and despery need of a bed for falollop’n’snoozit there”

“Folly” said the innkeep. “All the accomodakers fully occupile, but if you trickly-how to the stablode, feel free to prostrale among the animolds in the straw there.”

So off they trickly-how round the sigold, nudgit the cows and sheeplodes out the way, and pretty soon they were out like a light.

Now Mary was in the familode way, and dury the nightlopper she brought forth a new-borl infold all squawk’n’screamit like fingerdrobes down a blackboard there.

Early the next mordy, arrivit severold shepherds. 

“Goodly morlode! We bring giftloppers for the ankley-biteloder, but we are simple agricold labourits, so don’t expect Nintendole or X-bokker. Just a bottley gold-top and a wedgeley cheeselode.”

“Deep joy” said Mary. “Joseph. Putly kettle-on for a cuffalo tea-dee. These chaploders deservit a tilty-elbow. Oh yes.”

Just then, throo wisely men strollit through the door and bow’n’scrapeit before the infant there.

“All hail the Holymost child! We have falollowed a starloder all glimmerit in the skybole, and now pay hommy to the king!”

“Folly folly” said Joseph. “King? He is the humbold offrspriggit  of a carpentale from Nazareth.”

“Oh no” said the wisely men. “He is born to be kingly, as scribelode in the divine textbookers, and son of God.”

Then arrivit a celestibold host of Angelodes, all warbly in the throakus and twangit on the harp there. “Hosanna and deep deep joy!” they sang.

“Deep joy indeel!” exclaimit Joseph and Mary. “It’s all kicking off here!”

So there, at the very first Chrimbole, they all sat down to roast turkey with all the trimmage, and watchit the Queenly Speechlode before noddly-off with a dry sherry.

Oh yes.

Seasolly Greetage to everybole from @professorunwin and his earthly scrile!

Olympicold Celebrakers

Well what a gloribold summer for Britly sportage!  Falollowing much cyncicold commentale by journalodes, politickers and everybole with an opinium, the first wave of Olympicold celebrakers has surpassed all expectashy there. Oh yes.

Starty with the Openage Ceremole, from rurally idyllopers with trickly-how on the village greem there, to industrimole revoluters, all soot’n’chimblers amid dark satanny millage – what a spectaculode!  Thousels of peeploders, each grinny from eardrobe to eardrobe, warbly the music from Elgarb to Dizzily Rascold, and choreograbbles all hoof’n’shufflit with the rhythmold. Deep joy!

And how refreshy to see flag-wavit by such a cross-secty of the Britly populode, from squawky infant and childers all dimply cheeklode, to geriatry with denture-rattlit and trickly-how with the zimmer frale there.  Not everybole approvit though. Oh no. One parliamentarilopper all grumblit about “multicultulode crap”, but was swiftlymost bombardy with criticole requezzles to shutly goblode. Folly.

A highlibe of the ceremole for many peeploders was the sight of Her Majestale Queen Elizabobble in Buckingle Pally greetage “Goodly Eveloder Mr Bond” and falollopit from a helicoppler there.

As for the sportage competishy, much chest-puffage from the Britly crowd, as TeamGB athlebes demonstrale expertile on bicycloppers, rowy-boats, runnage, swimly and gymnastip trickly-how gatherit medalloders, all lip-trembly to the sound of the nationer anthel in the eardrobes there.

And now the Paralympy!

Across a broad spectral of the populashy, peeploders are remind that everybole has a talent, despile physicole impairmer, sensory challenge or difficold in the brainbocker there.

Thousels of athlebes from the far-flummery corms of the globe demonstrale their dedicaters, braveloder and passion for lifeloppers.

 Goodly-byelode to pity, and welcofole to celebrakers of the human specie in all its formy. Deep, deep joy!