Finnegans Wake

Pick a random excerpt from Finnegans Wake and read it out loud.

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some excerpts if someone wants to try to record themselves reading (...unironically best novel ever):

For he devoused the lelias on the fined and he conforted samp, tramp and marchint out of the drumbume of a narse. Guards, serf Finnland, serve we all!
TAFF (whatwidth the psychophannies at the front and whetwadth the psuckofumbers beholden the fair, illcertain, between his bulchri-chudes and the roshashanaral, where he sees Bishop Ribboncake plus his pollex prized going forth on his visitations of mirrage or Miss Horizon, justso all our fannacies daintied her, on the curve of the camber, unsheathing a showlaced limbaloft to the great consternations). Divulge! Hyededye, kittyls, and howdeddoh, pan! Poshbott and pulbuties. See that we soll or let dargman be luna as strait a way as your ant’s folly me line while ye post is goang from Piping Pubwirth to Haunted Hillborough on his Mujiksy’s Zaravence, the Riss, the Ross, the sur of all Russers, as my farst is near to hear and my sackend is meet to sedon while my whole’s a peer’s aureolies. We should say you dones the polecad. Bang on the booche, gurg in the gorge, rap on the roof and your flup is unbu ...
BUTT (at the signal of his act which seems to sharpnel his innermals menody, playing the spool of the little brown jog round the wheel of her whang goes the millner). Buckily buckily, blodestained boyne! Bimbambombumb. His snapper was shot in the Rumjar Journaral. Why the gigls he lubbed beeyed him.
TAFF (obliges with a two stop yogacoga sumphoty on the bones or ivory girl and ebony boy). The balacleivka! Trovatarovitch! I trumble!
BUTT (with the sickle of a scygthe but the humour of a hummer, O, howorodies through his cholaroguled, fumfing to a fullfrength with this wallowing olfact). Mortar martar tartar wartar! May his boules grow wider so his skittles gets worse! The aged monad making a venture out of the murder of investment. I seen him acting surgent what betwinks the scimitar star and the ashen moon. By their lights shalthow throw him! Piff paff for puffpuff and my pife for his cgar! The mlachy way for gambling.

[Up to this curkscraw bind an admirable verbivocovisual pre-sentment of the worldrenownced Caerholme Event has been being
given by The Irish Race and World. The huddled and aliven stable-crashers have shared fleetfooted enthusiasm with the paddocks
dare and ditches tare while the mews was combing ground. Hippo-hopparray helioscope flashed winsor places as the gates might see.
Meusdeus! That was (with burning briar) Mr Twomass Noho-holan for their common contribe satisfunction in the purports of
amusedment telling the Verily Roverend Father Epiphanes
shrineshriver of Saint Dhorough’s (in browne bomler) how
(assuary as there’s a bonum in your osstheology!)

hensmoker lily-hung pigger: and soay and soan and so firth and so forth in a tone sonora and Oom Bothar below like Bheri–Bheri in his sandy cloak, so umvolosy, as deaf as a yawn, the stult! Go away! Poor deef old deary! Yare only teasing! Anna Liv? As chalk is my judge! And didn’t she up in sorgues and go and trot doon and stand in her douro, puffing her old dudheen, and every shirvant siligirl or wensum farmerette walking the pilend roads, Sawy, Fundally, Daery or Maery, Milucre, Awny or Graw, usedn’t she make her a simp or sign to slip inside by the sullyport? You don’t say, the sillypost? Bedouix but I do! Calling them in, one by one (To Blockbeddum here! Here the Shoebenacaddie!) and legging a jig or so on the sihl to show them how to shake their benders and the dainty how to bring to mind the gladdest garments out of sight and all the way of a maid with a man and making a sort of a cackling noise like two and a penny or half a crown and holding up a silliver shiner. Lordy, lordy, did she so? Well, of all the ones ever I heard! Throwing all the neiss little whores in the world at him! To inny captured wench you wish of no matter what sex of pleissful ways two adda tammar a lizzy a lossie to hug and hab haven in Humpy’s apron!
And what was the wyerye rima she made! Odet! Odet! Tell me the trent of it while I’m lathering hail out of Denis Florence MacCarthy’s combies. Rise it, flut ye, pian piena! I’m dying down off my iodine feet until I lerryn Anna Livia’s cushingloo, that was writ by one and rede by two and trouved by a poule in the parco! I can see that, I see you are. How does it tummel? Listen now. Are you listening? Yes, yes! Idneed I am! Tarn your ore ouse! Essonne inne!
By earth end the cloudy but I badly went e brandnew bankside, bedamp and I do, and a plumper at that!

— A lambskip for the marines! Paronama! The entire hori- zon cloth! All effects in their joints caused ways. Raindrum, windmachine, snowbox. But thundersheet?
— No here. Under the blunkets.
— This common or garden is now in stilller realithy the starey sphere of an oleotorium for broken pottery and ancient vegetables?
— Simply awful the dirt. An evernasty ashtray.
— I see. Now do you know the wellknown kikkinmidden where the illassorted first couple first met with each other? The place where Ealdermann Fanagan? The time when Junkermenn Funagin?
— Deed then I do, W.K.
— In Fingal too they met at Littlepeace aneath the bidetree, Yellowhouse of Snugsborough, Westreeve–Astagob and Sluts-end with Stockins of Winning’s Folly Merryfalls, all of a two, skidoo and skephumble?
— Godamedy, you’re a delville of a tolkar!
— Is it a place fairly exspoused to the four last winds?
— Well, I faithly sincerely believe so indeed if all what I hope to charity is half true.
— This stow on the wolds, is it Woful Dane Bottom?
— It is woful in need whatever about anything or allselse under the grianblachk sun of gan greyne Eireann.
— A tricolour ribbon that spells a caution. The old flag, the cold flag.
— The flagstone. By tombs, deep and heavy. To the unaveiling memory of. Peacer the grave.
— And what sigeth Woodin Warneung thereof?
— Trickspissers vill be pairsecluded.
— There used to be a tree stuck up? An overlisting eshtree?
— There used, sure enough. Beside the Annar. At the ford of Slivenamond. Oakley Ashe’s elm. With a snoodrift from one beerchen bough. And the grawndest crowndest consecrated may-pole in all the reignladen history of Wilds. Browne’s Thesaurus Plantarum from Nolan’s, The Prittlewell Press, has nothing alike it. For we are fed of its forest, clad in its wood, burqued by its bark and our lecture is its leave.

While, running about their ways, going and coming, now at rhimba rhomba, now in trippiza trappaza, pleating a pattern Gran Geamatron showed them of gracehoppers, auntskippers and coney-farm leppers, they jeerilied along, durian gay and marian maid — cap, lou Dariou beside la Matieto, all boy more all girl singout — feller longa house blong store Huddy, whilest nin nin nin nin that Boorman’s clock, a winny on the tinny side, ninned nin nin nin nin, about old Father Barley how he got up of a morning arley and he met with a plattonem blondes named Hips and Haws and fell in with a fellows of Trinity some header Skowood Shaws like (You’ll catch it, don’t fret, Mrs Tummy Lupton! Come indoor, Scoffynosey, and shed your swank!) auld Daddy Deacon who could stow well his place of beacon but he never could hold his kerosene’s candle to (The nurse’ll give it you, stickypots! And you wait, my lasso, fecking the twine!) bold Farmer Burleigh who wuck up in a hurlywurly where he huddly could wuddle to wal-low his weg tillbag of the baker’s booth to beg of (You’re well held now, Missy Cheekspeer, and your panto’s off! Fie, for shame, Ruth Wheatacre, after all the booz said!) illed Diddiddy Achin for the prize of a pease of bakin with a pinch of the panch of the ponch in jurys for (Ah, crabeyes, I have you, showing off to the world with that gape in your stocking!) Wold Forrester Farley who, in deesperation of deispiration at the diasporation of his diesparation, was found of the round of the sound of the lound of the.Lukkedoerendunandurraskewdylooshoofermoyportertoo-ryzooysphalnabortansporthaokansakroidverjkapakkapuk.
Byfall.
Upploud!
The play thou schouwburgst, Game, here endeth. The curtain drops by deep request.

Uplouderamain!
Gonn the gawds, Gunnar’s gustspells. When the h, who the hu, how the hue, where the huer? Orbiter onswers: lots lives lost. Fionia is fed up with Fidge Fudgesons. Sealand snorres. Rendningrocks roguesreckning reigns. Gwds with gurs are gttrdmmrng. Hlls vlls. The timid hearts of words all exeomno-sunt. Mannagad, lammalelouh, how do that come? By Dad, youd not heed that fert? Fulgitudes ejist rowdownan tonuout. Quoq! And buncskleydoodle! Kidoosh! Of their fear they broke, they ate wind, they fled; where they ate there they fled; of their fear they fled, they broke away. Go to, let us extol Azrael with our harks, by our brews, on our jambses, in his gaits. To Mezou-zalem with the Dephilim, didits dinkun’s dud? Yip! Yup! Yar — rah! And let Nek Nekulon extol Mak Makal and let him say unto him: Immi ammi Semmi. And shall not Babel be with Lebab? And he war. And he shall open his mouth and answer: I hear, O Ismael, how they laud is only as my loud is one. If Nekulon shall be havonfalled surely Makal haven hevens. Go to, let us extell Makal, yea, let us exceedingly extell. Though you have lien amung your posspots my excellency is over Ismael. Great is him whom is over Ismael and he shall mekanek of Mak Nakulon. And he deed.
Uplouderamainagain!
For the Clearer of the A* from on high has spoken in tumbul-dum tambaldam to his tembledim tombaldoom worrild and, mogu — phonoised by that phonemanon, the unhappitents of the earth have terrerumbled from fimament unto fundament and from tweedledeedumms down to twiddledeedees.
Loud, hear us!
Loud, graciously hear us!

Now have thy children entered into their habitations. And nationglad, camp meeting over, to shin it, Gov be thanked! Thou hast closed the portals of the habitations of thy children and thou hast set thy guards thereby, even Garda Didymus and Garda Domas, that thy children may read in the book of the opening of the mind to light and err not in the darkness which is the after-thought of thy nomatter by the guardiance of those guards which are thy bodemen, the cheeryboyum chirryboth with the kerry-bommers in their krubeems, Pray-your-Prayers Timothy and Back-to-Bunk Tom.
Till tree from tree, tree among trees tree over tree become stone to stone, stone between stones, stone under stone for ever.
O Loud, hear the wee beseech of thees of each of these thy unlitten ones! Grant sleep in hour’s time, O Loud!
That they take no chill. That they do ming no merder. That they shall not gomeet madhowiatrees.
Loud, heap miseries upon us yet entwine our arts with laugh-ters low!
Ha he hi ho hu.
Mummum.

they gave him the jambos!) with a posse of tossing hankerwaves to his windward like seraph’s summonses on the air and a tempest of good things in packetshape teeming from all accounts into the funnel of his fanmail shrimpnet, along the highroad of the nation, Traitor’s Track, following which fond floral fray he was quickly lost to sight through the statuemen though without a doubt he was all the more on that same head to memory dear while Sickerson, that borne of bjoerne, la garde auxiliaire she murmured, hellyg Ursulinka, full of woe (and how fitlier should goodboy’s hand be shook than by the warmin of her besom that wrung his swaddles?): Where maggot Harvey kneeled till bags? Ate Andrew coos hogdam farvel! Wethen, now, may the good people speed you, rural Haun, export stout fellow that you are, the crooner born with sweet wail of evoker, healing music, ay, and heart in hand of Sham-rogueshire! The googoos of the suckabolly in the rockabeddy are become the copiosity of wiseableness of the friarylayman in the pulpitbarrel. May your bawny hair grow rarer and fairer, our own only wideheaded boy! Rest your voice! Feed your mind! Mint your peas! Coax your qyous! Come to disdoon blarmey and walk our groves so charming and see again the sweet rockelose where first you hymned O Ciesa Mea! and touch the light the-orbo! Songster, angler, choreographer! Piper to prisoned! Musi — cianship made Embrassador-at-Large! Good by nature and natural by design, had you but been spared to us, Hauneen lad, but sure where’s the use my talking quicker when I know you’ll hear me all astray? My long farewell I send to you, fair dream of sport and game and always something new. Gone is Haun! My grief, my ruin! Our Joss-el-Jovan! Our Chris-na-Murty! ’Tis well you’ll be looked after from last to first as yon beam of light we follow receding on your photophoric pilgrimage to your antipodes in the past, you who so often consigned your distributory tidings of great joy into our nevertoolatetolove box, mansuetudinous manipulator, victimisedly victorihoarse, dearest Haun of all, you of the boots, true as adie, stepwalker, pennyatimer, lampaddyfair, postanulengro, our rommanychiel! Thy now paling light lucerne we ne’er may see again. But could it speak how nicely would it splutter to the four cantons praises be to thee, our pattern sent! For you had — may I, in our, your and their names, dare to say it? — the nucleus of a glow of a zeal of

were in half droopleaflong mourning for the passing of the last post) the familiar yellow label into which he let fall a drop, smothered a curse, choked a guffaw, spat expectoratiously and blew his own trumpet. And next thing was he gummalicked the stickyback side and stamped the oval badge of belief to his agnelows brow with a genuine dash of irrepressible piety that readily turned his ladylike typmanzelles capsy curvy (the holy scamp!), with half a glance of Irish frisky (a Juan Jaimesan hastaluego) from under the shag of his parallel brows. It was then he made as if be but waved instead a handacross the sea as notice to quit while the pacifettes made their armpacts widdershins (Frida! Freda! Paza! Paisy! Irine! Areinette! Bridomay! Bentamai! Soso-sopky! Bebebekka! Bababadkessy! Ghugugoothoyou! Dama! Damadomina! Takiya! Tokaya! Scioccara! Siuccherillina! Peoc-chia! Peucchia! Ho Mi Hoping! Ha Me Happinice! Mirra! My — rha! Solyma! Salemita! Sainta! Sianta! O Peace!), but in self — righting the balance of his corporeity to reexchange widerem — brace with the pillarbosom of the Dizzier he loved prettier, be — tween estellos and venoussas, bad luck to the lie but when next to nobody expected, their star and gartergazer at the summit of his climax, he toppled a lipple on to the off and, making a brand-new start for himself to run down his easting, by blessing hes sthers with the sign of the southern cross, his bungaloid borsa-line with the hedgygreen bound blew off in a loveblast (award for trover!) and Jawjon Redhead, bucketing after, meccamaniac, (the headless shall have legs!), kingscouriered round with an easy rush and ready relays by the bridge a stadion beyond Ladycastle (and what herm but he narrowly missed fouling her buttress for her but for he acqueducked) and then, cocking a snook at the stock of his sermons, so mear and yet so fahr from that region’s general, away with him at the double, the hulk of a garron, pelting after the road, on Shanks’s mare, let off like a wind hound loose (the bouchal! you’d think it was that moment they gave him the jambos!) with a posse of tossing hankerwaves to his windward like seraph’s summonses on the air and a tempest of good things in packetshape teeming from all accounts into the funnel of his fanmail shrimpnet, along the highroad of the nation, Traitor’s Track, following which fond floral fray he was quickly lost to sight through the statuemen though without a doubt he was all the more on that same head to memory dear while Sickerson, that borne of bjoerne, la garde auxiliaire she murmured, hellyg Ursulinka, full of woe (and how fitlier should goodboy’s hand be shook than by the warmin of her besom that wrung his swaddles?): Where maggot Harvey kneeled till bags?

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Her untitled mamafesta memorialising the Mosthighest has gone by many names at disjointed times. Thus we hear of, The Augusta Angustissimost for Old Seabeastius’ Salvation, Rockabill Booby in the Wave Trough, Here’s to the Relicts of All Decencies, Anna Stessa’s Rise to Notice, Knickle Down Duddy Gunne and Arishe Sir Cannon, My Golden One and My Selver Wedding, Amoury Treestam and Icy Siseule, Saith a Sawyer til a Strame, Ik dik dopedope et tu mihimihi, Buy Birthplate for a Bite, Which of your Hesterdays Mean Ye to Morra? Hoebegunne the Hebrewer Hit Waterman the Brayned, Arcs in His Ceiling Flee Chinx on the Flur, Rebus de Hibernicis, The Crazier Letters, Groans of a Briton-ess, Peter Peopler Picked a Plot to Pitch his Poppolin, An Apology for a Big (some such nonoun as Husband or husboat or hose-bound is probably understood for we have also the plutherplethoric My Hoonsbood Hansbaad’s a Journey to Porthergill gone and He Never Has the Hour), Ought We To Visit Him? For Ark see Zoo, Cleopater’s Nedlework Ficturing Aldborougham on the Sahara with the Coombing of the Cammmels and the Parlourmaids of Aegypt, Cock in the Pot for Father, Placeat Vestrae, A New Cure for an Old Clap, Where Portentos they’d Grow Gonder how I’d Wish I Woose a Geese; Gettle Nettie, Thrust him not, When the Myrtles of Venice Played to Bloccus’s Line, To Plenge Me High He Waives Chiltern on Friends, Oremunds Queue Visits Amen Mart, E’en Tho’ I Granny a-be He would Fain Me Cuddle, Twenty of Chambers, Weighty Ten Beds and a Wan Ceteroom, I Led the Life, Through the Boxer Coxer Rising in the House with the Golden Stairs,

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The Following Fork, He’s my O’Jerusalem and I’m his Po, The Best in the West, By the Stream of Zemzem under Zig-zag Hill, The Man That Made His Mother in the Marlborry Train, Try Our Taal on a Taub, The Log of Anny to the Base All, Nopper Tipped a Nappiwenk to his Notylytl Dantsigirls, Prszss Orel Orel the King of Orlbrdsz, Intimier Minnelisp of an Extor-reor Monolothe, Drink to Him, My Juckey, and Dhoult Bemine Thy Winnowing Sheet, I Ask You to Believe I was his Mistress, He Can Explain, From Victrolia Nuancee to Allbart Noahnsy, Da’s a Daisy so Guimea your Handsel too, What Barbaras Done to a Barrel Organ Before the Rank, Tank and Bonnbtail, Huskvy Admortal, What Jumbo made to Jalice and what Anisette to Him, Ophelia’s Culpreints, Hear Hubty Hublin, My Old Dansh, I am Older northe Rogues among Whisht I Slips and He Calls Me his Dual of Ayessha, Suppotes a Ventriliquorst Merries a Corpse, Lapps for Finns This Funnycoon’s Week, How the Buckling Shut at Rush in January, Look to the Lady, From the Rise of the Dudge Pupublick to the Fall of the Potstille, Of the Two Ways of Opening the Mouth, I have not Stopped Water Where It Should Flow and I Know the Twentynine Names of Attraente, The Tortor of Tory Island Traits Galasia like his Milchcow, From Abbeygate to Crowalley Through a Lift in the Lude, Smocks for Their Graces and Me Aunt for Them Clodshoppers, How to Pull a Good Horus-coup even when Oldsire is Dead to the World, Inn the Gleam of Waherlow, Fathe He’s Sukceded to My Esperations, Thee Steps Forward, Two Stops Back, My Skin Appeals to Three Senses and My Curly Lips Demand Columbkisses; Gage Street on a Crany’s Savings, Them Lads made a Trion of Battlewatschers and They Totties a Doeit of Deers, In My Lord’s Bed by One Whore Went Through It, Mum It is All Over, Cowpoyride by Twelve Acre Ter-riss in the Unique Estates of Amessican, He Gave me a Thou so I serve Him with Thee, Of all the Wide Torsos in all the Wild Glen, O’Donogh, White Donogh, He’s Hue to Me Cry, I’m the Stitch in his Baskside You’d be Nought Without Mom, To Keep the Huskies off the Hustings and Picture Pets from Lifting Shops, Nor-sker Torsker Find the Poddle,

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He Perssed Me Here with the Ardour of a Tonnoburkes, A Boob Was Weeping This Mower was Reaping, O’Loughlin, Up from the Pit of my Stomach I Swish you the White of the Mourning, Inglo–Andeen Medoleys from Tommany Moohr, The Great Polynesional Entertrainer Exhibits Ballantine Braut-chers with the Link of Natures, The Mimic of Meg Neg end the Mackeys, Entered as the Lastest Pigtarial and My Pooridiocal at Stitchioner’s Hall, Siegfield Follies and or a Gentlehomme’s Faut Pas, See the First Book of Jealesies Pessim, The Suspended Sen-tence, A Pretty Brick Story for Childsize Heroes, As Lo Our Sleep, I Knew I’d Got it in Me so Thit settles That, Thonderbalt Captain Smeth and La Belle Sauvage Pocahonteuse, Way for Wet Week Welikin’s Douchka Marianne, The Last of the Fingallians, It Was Me Egged Him on to the Stork Exchange and Lent my Dutiful Face to His Customs, Chee Chee Cheels on their China Miction, Pickedmeup Peters, Lumptytumtumpty had a Big Fall, Pimpimp Pimpimp, Measly Ventures of Two Lice and the Fall of Fruit, The Fokes Family Interior, If my Spreadeagles Wasn’t so Tight I’d Loosen my Cursits on that Bunch of Maggiestraps, Allolosha Popofetts and Howke Cotchme Eye, Seen Aples and Thin Dyed, i big U to Beleaves from Love and Mother, Fine’s Fault was no Felon, Exat Delvin Renter Life, The Flash that Flies from Vuggy’s Eyes has Set Me Hair On Fire, His is the House that Malt Made, Divine Views from Back to the Front, Abe to Sare Stood Icyk Neuter till Brahm Taulked Him Common Sex, A Nibble at Eve Will That Bowal Relieve, Allfor Guineas, Sounds and Compliments Libidous, Seven Wives Awake Aweek, Airy Ann and Berber Blut, Amy Licks Porter While Huffy Chops Eads, Abbrace of Umbellas or a Tripple of Caines, Buttbutterbust, From the Manorlord Hoved to the Misses O’Mollies and from the Dames to their Sames, Many-festoons for the Colleagues on the Green, An Outstanding Back and an Excellent Halfcentre if Called on, As Tree is Quick and Stone is White So ts My Washing Done by Night, First and Last Only True Account au about the Honorary Mirsu Earwicker, L.S.D., and the Snake (Nuggets!) by a Woman of the World who only can Tell Naked Truths about a Dear Man and all his Conspirators how they all Tried to Fall him Putting it all around Lucalizod about Privates Earwicker and a Pair of Sloppy Sluts plainly Showing all the Unmentionability falsely Accusing about the Raincoats.

I’d write it all by mownself if I only had here of my jolly young watermen. Bear in mind, by Michael, all the provincial’s bananas peels and elacock eggs making drawadust jubilee along Henry, Moore, Earl and Talbot Streets. Luke at all the memmer manning he’s dung for the pray of birds, our priest-mayor-king-merchant, strewing the Castle-knock Road and drawing manure upon it till the first glimpse of Wales and from Ballses Breach Harshoe up to Dumping’s Comer with the Mirist fathers’ brothers eleven versus White Friars out on a rogation stag party. Compare them caponchin trowlers with the Bridge of Belches in Fairview, noreast Dublin’s favourite souwest wateringplatz and ump as you lump it. What do you mean by Jno Citizen and how do you think of Jas Pagan? Compost liffe in Dufblin by Pierce Egan with the baugh in Baughkley of Fino Ralli. Explain why there is such a number of orders of religion in Asea! Why such an order number in preference to any other number? Why any number in any order at all? Now? Where is the greenest island off the black coats of Spaign? Overset into universal: I am perdrix and upon my pet ridge. Oralmus! Way, O way for the autointaxication of our town of the Fords in a huddle! Hailfellow some wellmet boneshaker or, to ascertain the facts for herself, run up your showeryweather once and trust and take the Drumgondola tram and, wearing the midlimb and vestee endorsed by the hierarchy fitted with ecclastics, bending your steps, pick a trail and stand on, say, Aston’s, I advise you strongly, along quaith a copy of the Seeds and Weeds Act when you have procured one for your- self and take a good longing gaze into any nearby shopswindow you may select at suppose, let us say, the hoyth of number eleven, Kane or Keogh’s, and in the course of about thirtytwo minutes’ time proceed to turn aroundabout on your heehills to-wards the previous causeway and I shall be very cruelly mis — taken indeed if you will not be jushed astunshed to see how you will be meanwhile durn weel topcoated with kakes of slush occasioned by the mush jam of the cross and blackwalls traffic in transit. See Capels and then fly. Show me that complaint book here. Where’s Cowtends Kateclean, the woman with the muckrake? When will the W.D. face of our sow muckloved d’lin, the Troia of towns and Carmen of cities, crawling with mendiants in per-forated clothing, get its wellbelavered white like l’pool and m’chester? When’s that grandnational goldcapped dupsydurby houspill coming with its vomitives for our mothers-inload and stretchers for their devitalised males? I am all of me for freedom of speed but who’ll disasperaguss Pope’s Avegnue or who’ll uproose the Opian Way?

Who’ll brighton Brayhowth and bait the Bull Bailey and never despair of Lorcansby? The rampant royal commissioners! ’Tis an ill weed blows no poppy good. And this labour’s worthy of my higher. Oil for meed and toil for feed and a walk with the band for Job Loos. If I hope not charity what profiteers me? Nothing! My tippers of flags are knobs of hard-shape for it isagrim tale, keeping the father of curls from the sport of oak. Do you know what, liddle giddles? One of those days I am advised by the smiling voteseeker who’s now snoring elued to positively strike off hiking for good and all as I bldy well bdly ought until such temse as some mood is made under privy-sealed orders to get me an increase of automoboil and foot-wear for these poor discalced and a bourse from bon Somewind for a cure at Badanuweir (though where it’s going to come from this time —) as I sartunly think now, honest to John, for an income plexus that that’s about the sanguine boundary limit. Amean.

— Perhaps you can explain, sagobean? The Mod needs a rebus.
— Pro general continuation and in particular explication to your singular interrogation our asseveralation. Ladiegent, pals will smile but me and Frisky Shorty, my inmate friend, as is uncommon struck on poplar poetry, and a few fleabesides round at West Pauper Bosquet, was glad to be back again with the chaps and just arguing friendlylike at the Doddercan Easehouse having a wee chatty with our hosty in his comfy estably over the old middlesex party and his moral turps, meaning flu, pock, pox and mizzles, grip, gripe, gleet and sprue, caries, rabies, numps and dumps. What me and Frisky in our concensus and the whole double gigscrew of suscribers, notto say the burman, having successfully concluded our tour of bibel, wants to know is thisa-here. Supposing, for an ethical fict, him, which the findings showed, to have taken his epscene licence before the norsect’s divisional respectively as regards them male privates and or concomitantly with all common or neuter respects to them public exess females, whereas allbeit really sweet fillies, as was very properly held by the metropolitan in connection with this regrettable nuisance, touching arbitrary conduct, being in strict contravention of schedule in board of forests and works bylaws regulationing sparkers’ and succers’ amusements section of our beloved naturpark in pursuance of which police agence me and Shorty have approached a reverend gentlman of the name of Mr Coppinger with reference to a piece of fire fittings as was most obliging, ‘pon my sam, in this matter of his explanations affirmative, negative and limitative, given to me and Shorty, touching what the good book says of toooldaisymen, concerning the merits of early bisectualism, besides him citing from approved lectionary example given by a valued friend of the name of Mr J. P. Cockshott, reticent of England, as owns a pretty maisonette, Quis ut Deus, fronting on to the Soussex Bluffs as was telling us categoric how Mr Cockshott, as he had his assignation with, present holder by deedpoll and indenture of the swearing belt, he tells him hypothetic, the reverend Mr Coppinger, hereckons himself disjunctively with his windwarrd eye up to a dozen miles of a cunifarm school of herring, passing themselves supernatently by the Bloater Naze from twelve and them mayridinghim by the silent hour.

Butting, charging, bracing, backing, springing, shrinking, swaying, darting, shooting, bucking and sprinkling their dossies sodouscheock with the twinx of their taylz. And, reverend, he says, summat problematical, by yon socialist sun, gut me, but them errings was as gladful as Wissixy kippers could be considering, flipping their little coppingers, pot em, the fresh little flirties, the dirty little gillybrighteners, pickle their spratties, the little smolty gallockers, and, reverend, says he, more asser-titoff, zwelf me Zeus, says he, lettin olfac be the extench of the supperfishies, lamme the curves of their scaligerance and pesk the everurge flossity of their pectoralium, them little salty popu-lators, says he, most apodictic, as sure as my briam eggs is on cockshot under noose, all them little upandown dippies they was all of a libidous pickpuckparty and raid on a wriggolo finsky doodah in testimonials to their early bisectualism. Such, he says, is how the reverend Coppinger, he visualises the hidebound homelies of creed crux ethics. Watsch yourself tillicately every morkning in your bracksullied twilette. The use of cold water, testificates Dr Rutty, may be warmly recommended for the sug-jugation of cungunitals loosed. Tolloll, schools!

— Tallhell and Barbados wi ye and your Errian coprulation! Pelagiarist! Remonstrant Montgomeryite! Short lives to your relatives! Y’are absexed, so y’are, with mackerglosia and mick-roocyphyllicks.
— Wait now, leixlep! I scent eggoarchicism. I vill take you to task. I don’t follow you that far in your otherwise accurate account. Was it esox lucius or salmo ferax? You are taxing us into the driven future, are you not, with this ruttymaid fishery?
— Lalia Lelia Lilia Lulia and lively lovely Lola Montez.
— Gubbernathor! That they say is a fenian on the secret. Named Parasol Irelly. Spawning ova and fry like a marrye monach all amanygoround his seven parish churches! And peopling the ribald baronies with dans, oges and conals!
— Lift it now, Hosty! Hump’s your mark! For a runnymede landing! A dondhering vesh vish, Magnam Carpam, es hit neat zoo?
— There’s an old psalmsobbing lax salmoner fogeyboren Herrin Plundehowse. Who went floundering with his boatloads of spermin spunk about. Leaping freck after every long tom and wet lissy between Howth and Humbermouth. Our Human Conger Eel!
— Hep! I can see him in the fishnoo! Up wi’yer whippy! Hold that lad! Play him, Markandeyn! Bullhead!
— Pull you, sir! Olive quill does it. Longeal of Malin, he’ll cry before he’s flayed. And his tear make newisland. Did a rise? Way, lungfush! The great fin may cumule! Three threeth o’er the wild! Manu ware!
— He missed her mouth and stood into Dee, Romunculus Remus, plying the rape, so as now any bompriss’s bound to get up her if he pool her leg and bunk on her butt. No, he skid like a skate and berthed on her byrnie and never a fear but they’ll land him yet, slitheryscales on liffeybank, times and times and halve a time with a pillow of sand to polster him.

Gaping Gill, swift to mate errthors, stern to checkself, (diagnosing through eustacetube that it was to make with a markedly postpuberal hypertituitary type of Heidelberg mannleich cavern ethics) lufted his slopingforward, bad Sweatagore good murrough and dublnotch on to it as he was greedly obliged, and like a sensible ham, with infinite tact in the delicate situation seen the touchy nature of its perilous theme, thanked um for guilders received and time of day (not a little token abock all the same that that was owl the God’s clock it was) and, upon humble duty to greet his Tyskminister and he shall gildthegap Gaper and thee his a mouldy voids, went about his business, whoever it was, saluting corpses, as a metter of corse (one could hound him out had one hart to for the monticules of scalp and dandruff droppings blaze his trail) accompanied by his trusty snorler and his permanent reflection, verbigracious; I have met with you, bird, too late, or if not, too worm and early: and with tag for ildiot repeated in his secondmouth language as many of the bigtimer’s verbaten words which he could balbly call to memory that same kveldeve, ere the hour of the twattering of bards in the twitterlitter between Druidia and the Deepsleep Sea, when suppertide and souvenir to Charlatan Mall jointly kem gently and along the quiet darkenings of Grand and Royal, ff, flitmansfluh, and, kk, ‘t crept i’ hedge whenas to many a softongue’s pawkytalk mude unswer u sufter poghyogh, Arvanda always aquiassent, while, studying castelles in the blowne and studding cowshots over the noran, he spat in careful convertedness a musaic dispensation about his hearthstone, if you please, (Irish saliva, mawshe dho hole, but would a respectable prominently connected fellow of Iro–European ascendances with welldressed ideas who knew the correct thing such as Mr Shallwesigh or Mr Shallwelaugh expectorate after such a callous fashion, no thank yous! when he had his belcher spuckertuck in his pucket, pthuck?) musefed with his thockits after having supped of the dish sot and pottage which he snobbishly dabbed Peach Bombay (it is rawly only Lukanpukan pilzenpie which she knows which senaffed and pibered him), a supreme of excelling peas, balled under minnshogue’s milk into whitemalt winesour, a proviant the littlebilker hoarsely relished, chaff it, in the snevel season, being as fain o’t as your rat wi’fennel; and on this celebrating occasion of the happy escape, for a crowning of pot valiance, this regional platter, benjamin of bouillis, with a spolish olive to middlepoint its zaynith, was marrying itself (porkograso!) erebusqued very deluxiously with a bottle of Phenice–Bruerie ‘98, followed for second nuptials by a Piessporter, Grand Cur, of both of which cherished tablelights (though humble the bounquet ’tis a leaman’s farewell) he obdurately sniffed the cobwebcrusted corks.

The Arsdi-ken’s An Traitey on Miracula or Viewed to Death by a Priest Hunter is still first in the field despite the castle bar, William Archer’s a rompan good cathalogue and he’ll give you a riser on the route to our nazional labronry. Skim over Through Hell with the Papes (mostly boys) by the divine comic Denti Alligator (exsponging your index) and find a quip in a quire arisus aream from bastardtitle to fatherjohnson. Swear aloud by pious fiction the like of Lentil Lore by Carnival Cullen or that Percy Wynns of our S. J. Finn’s or Pease in Plenty by the Curer of Wars, licensed and censered by our most picturesque prelates, Their Graces of Linzen and Petitbois, bishops of Hibernites, licet ut lebanus, for expansion on the promises, the two best sells on the market this luckiest year, set up by Gill the father, put out by Gill the son and circulating disimally at Gillydehooly’s Cost. Strike up a nodding acquaintance for our doctrine with the works of old Mrs Trot, senior, and Manoel Canter, junior, and Loper de Figas, nates maximum. I used to follow Mary Liddlelambe’s flitsy tales, espicially with the scentaminted sauce. Sifted science will do your arts good. Egg Laid by Former Cock and With Flageolettes in Send Fanciesland. Chiefly girls. Trip over sacramental tea into the long lives of our saints and saucerdotes, with vignettes, cut short into instructual primers by those in authority for the bittermint of your soughts. Forfet not the palsied. Light a match for poor old Contrabally and send some balmoil for the schizmatics. A hemd in need is aye a friendly deed. Remember, maid, thou dust art powder but Cinderella thou must return (what are you robbing her sleeve for, Ruby? And pull in your tongue, Polly!). Cog that out of your teen times, everyone. The lad who brooks no breaches lifts the lass that toffs a tailor. How dare ye be laughing out of your mouthshine at the lack of that? Keep cool your fresh chastity which is far better far.

Sooner than part with that vesta-lite emerald of the first importance, descended to me by far from our family, which you treasure up so closely where extremes meet, nay, mozzed lesmended, rather let the whole ekumene universe belong to merry Hal and do whatever his Mary well likes. When the gong goes for hornets-two-nest marriage step into your harness and strip off that nullity suit. Faminy, hold back! For the race is to the rashest of, the romping, jomping rushes of. Haul Seton’s down, black, green and grey, and hoist Mikealy’s whey and sawdust. What’s overdressed if underclothed? Poposht forstake me knot where there’s white lets ope. Whisht! Blesht she that walked with good Jook Humprey for he made her happytight. Go! You can down all the dripping you can dumple to, and buffkid scouse too ad libidinum, in these lassi-tudes if you’ve parents and things to look after. That was what stuck to the Comtesse Cantilene while she was sticking out Mavis Toffeelips to feed her soprannated huspals, and it is henceforth associated with her names. La Dreeping! Die Droopink! The inimitable in puresuet of the inevitable! There’s nothing to touch it, we are taucht, unless she’d care for a mouthpull of white pud-ding for the wish is on her rose marine and the lunchlight in her eye, so when you pet the rollingpin write my name on the pie. Guard that gem, Sissy, rich and rare, ses he. In this cold old worold who’ll feel it? Hum! The jewel you’re all so cracked about there’s flitty few of them gets it for there’s nothing now but the sable stoles and a runabout to match it. Sing him a ring. Touch me low. And I’ll lech ye so, my soandso. Show and show. Show on show. She. Shoe. Shone.

Divulge, sjuddenly jouted out hardworking Jaun, kicking the console to his double and braying aloud like Brahaam’s ass, and, as his voixehumanar swelled to great, clenching his manlies, so highly strong was he, man, and gradually quite warming to her (there must have been a power of kinantics in that buel of gruel he gobed at bedgo) divorce into me and say the cur-name in undress (if you get into trouble with a party you are not likely to forget his appearance either) of any lapwhelp or sleevemongrel who talks to you upon the road where he tuck you to be a roller, O, (the goattanned saxopeeler upshotdown chigs peel of him!) and volunteers to trifle with your round-lings for profferred glass and dough, the marrying hand that his leisure repents of, without taking out his proper password from the eligible ministriss for affairs with the black fremdling, that enemy of our country, in a cleanlooking light and I don’t care a tongser’s tammany hang who the mucky is nor twoo hoots in the corner nor three shouts on a hill (were he even a constantineal namesuch of my very own, Attaboy Knowling, and like enoch to my townmajor ancestors, the two that are taking out their divorces in the Spooksbury courts circuits, Rere Uncle Remus, the Baas of Eboracum and Old Father Ulissabon Knickerbocker, the lanky sire of Wolverhampton, about their bristelings), but as true as there’s a soke for sakes in Twoways Peterborough and sure as home we come to newsky prospect from west the wave on schedule time (if I came any quicker I’ll be right back before I left) from the land of breach of promise with Brendan’s mantle whitening the Kerribrasilian sea and March’s pebbles spinning from beneath our footslips to carry fire and sword, rest insured that as we value the very name in sister that as soon as we do possibly it will be a poor lookout for that insister. He’s a markt man from that hour. And why do we say that, you may query me? Quary? Guess! Call’st thou? Think and think and think, I urge on you. Muffed! The wrong porridge. You are an ignoratis! Because then probably we’ll dumb well soon show him what the Shaun way is like how we’ll go a long way towards breaking his outsider’s face for him for making up to you with his bringthee balm of Gaylad and his singthee songs of Arupee, chancetrying my ward’s head into sanctuary before feeling with his two dimensions for your nup-tial dito. Ohibow, if I was Blonderboss I’d gooandfrighthisdual — man! Now, we’ll tell you what we’ll do to be sicker instead of compensation.

We’ll he’ll burst our his mouth like Leary to the Leinsterface and reduce he’ll we’ll ournhisn liniments to a poolp. Open the door softly, somebody wants you, dear! You’ll hear him calling you, bump, like a blizz, in the muezzin of the turkest night. Come on now, pillarbox! I’ll stiffen your scribeall, broken reed! That’ll be it, grand operoar style, even should I, with my sleuts of hogpew and cheekas, have to coomb the brash of the libs round Close Saint Patrice to lay my louseboob on his behaitch like solitar. We are all eyes. I have his quoram of images all on my retinue, Mohomadhawn Mike. Brassup! More-over after that, bad manners to me, if I don’t think strongly about giving the brotherkeeper into custody to the first police bubby cunstabless of Dora’s Diehards in the field I might chance to follopon. Or for that matter, for your information, if I get the wind up what do you bet in the buckets of my wrath I mightn’t even take it into my progromme, as sweet course, to do a rash act and pitch in and swing for your perfect stranger in the meadow of heppiness and then wipe the street up with the clonmellian, pending my bringing proceedings verses the joyboy before a bunch of magistrafes and twelve good and gleeful men?

Chap 2.4 is one of my favorites
vocaroo.com/i/s0hhuY9lYMnc

really great reading

thanks

Thanks whoever posted these. I'd do a reading but I don't have a microphone

vocaroo.com/i/s00E7WvaFsh4

vocaroo.com/i/s0UvoNJMREpe

vocaroo.com/i/s0FlWlCksdqO

vocaroo.com/i/s1X20hGzQahZ

you're a very systematic guy

vocaroo.com/i/s0r6kGb9i8VN

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bump

dude...what, hello?!?!? spoilers?!?!?! wtf

Dope, thanks, nice job

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Le mental illness face