Interminable giblets splatted against the window. Inside, five men looked at each other as if they were about to rip each other's throats out. A metronome in the table tocked and ticked to and fro'.

Jvelve: It is! It is adumbrated
Wrunskis: I say. I say. It's a flap-wrong idea.
Jvelve: In-flooping-deedy.
Mr. Wrarpshard Plentwistle: This is protestable. I mean. What if Belgians get a hold of it?
Ydrumby: Plentwistle: you can take the incomprehensible British antipathy of Belgians and soak it in a sock. This is business. This is a mighty serious business we're considering here.
Jvelve: Order! I call Order.
Heeblefleen: Order is rescinded by the chaos of St. Jerome the Twisted!
Strampolis: But it is a thing!
Mr. Wrarpshard Plentwistle: Oh please. It is so not a thing. By the writ of so-and-so or thus-and-such the falseness of it has been completely and unambiguously demonstrated
Stampolis: Its thingness is incontrovertible!
Heeblefleen: It has been entirely controverted!
Ydrumby: But, what, about, the meaning!
Stampolis: Shatnerism
Ydrumby: hic! sorry
Jvelve: haec. quod est disputandem
Mr. Wrarpshard Plentwistle: I've had enough, what is it?
Ydrumby: meaning! I call a misappalachia!
Stampolis: all resolved to collide our heads with mischevious and reckless glee?
Heeblefleen: Think of the ridges! The mad Englishwomen wielding spacklers! What have we wrought here? A vexing question? A lack of nouns?
Jvelve: Oh my god.
Mr. Wrarpshard Plentwistles head begins smoking.
Heeblefleen: we have discovered the robot! Time to order pizza.