Oh ... and while we are at it here's a nonsense poem I wrote some 16 years ago
Bungerly Trigglett came to town upon his Woodle Vic,
his Woodle Vic was none to well and started feeling sick.
Scrunge Fruttock, said Bungerly, for ‘twas the creatures name,
bodelly your trundlish or you’ll never be the same.
The creature smiled and burped and belched and generally looked appalling,
until it finally realised it’s grobags were not falling.
Then it belched and burped and smiled, struggled to it’s feet,
done a raglish somersault and landed on it’s seat.