A Portly Pig Met a Two Inch Swan In a Wardrobe

A little forthright butternut fruit cake was sat on embroidered picnic rug. Basking in the sun whilst chatting to a jam pot. Beyond the knitted trees of custard lays the artichoke of buttered llamas. To decipher a stone is to roll over sixty three times down a mountain but mountains mumble making musical mantras and who would dare to dangle off a ledge wearing a seventy kilo saucepan hat? Sandcastle secretions of a purple hue hide the frolicking worms in sombreros. Never ever bark at kettles or neigh at the toaster for this carries as much weight and power as throwing oneself up into the air wearing a rubber ring and landing on the roof of a nearby hotels. Hotels are neither hills nor heaped hummus humps. And no riot of silver backed whales ever really formed in a bubble bath for they prefer the jacuzzi at this seasonal point. Icy glowing embers in a carpet of fish scales are sure to entice cardboard curtains. The wide footprint of a semi aquatic reindeer stands true in sands despite tides. Toads can swim over eighty miles down roads and the roads are arenas of giant mildew which call out greetings to sessional groups of fox musicians who gather with rabbits in the hedgerows to entertain the otherwise grey flows. Inverted igloos ingesting ivy ignoring inky island inhabitants. Hahaha the horses are Trapezing with the square cattle. Hahaha leg handed left wing mirror winking at a cone line. Xxxxx atmospherically z z z z z