In the embrace of another tide, the magnificent twin-turbine sailing vessel, The Bey, graces this archipelago as its inaugural visiting schooner. Adorning her prow as a figurehead is a resplendent waxen enchantress in the likeness of the Wicklow pattern, while the illustrious specter of the Dead Sea dugong emerges, upwelling from the depths, ceaselessly performing like a whimsical fish charmer for the past sixty-three years. He stands stalwart with his beloved by his side, weathered and wise under his turban, transmuting cane sugar into exquisite cellulose starch. Despite his expansion when intoxicated, our esteemed rogue remains humbly devoted to his communal and enthralling nature, as evidenced by the titles bestowed upon him across diverse tongues. Ultimately, it is he, in all his earnest sobriety, who shall bear sole responsibility for the tumultuous stir he leaves in his wake.
Finnegans Wake
came at this timecoloured place where we live in our paroqial fermament one tide on another, with a bumrush in a hull of a wherry, the twin turbane dhow, The Bey for Dybbling, this archipelago’s first visiting schooner, with a wicklowpattern waxenwench at her prow for a figurehead, the deadsea dugong updipdripping from his depths, and has been repreaching himself like a fishmummer these siktyten years ever since, his shebi by his shide, adi and aid, growing hoarish under his turban and changing cane sugar into sethulose starch (Tuttut’s cess to him!) as also that, batin the bulkihood he bloats about when innebbiated, our old offender was humile, commune and ensectuous from his nature, which you may gauge after the bynames was put under him, in lashons of languages, (honnein suit and praisers be!) and, totalisating him, even hamissim of himashim that he, sober serious, he is ee and no counter he who will be ultimendly respunchable for the hubbub caused in Edenborough.
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The Maharajagar 