But, Pigeons?

String?

Goats?

This is a chinstrap for your diversity co-ordinator irritating device.

Use the detector, Nigel. But don't eat all the chips.

Once.

Twice.

Three times a llama.

Here we are, standing in the standing place. But there is nothing here and there are no goats in the goat-finding place. It is a mystery - possibly.

Once we had the Helicopters of Desire, now we only have these hats. However, we refuse to wear the wearable things now there are giraffes in our vestibule, each having a dinner of Southern-Fried Hamster Chins.

But, pigeons?

I don't ask because I don't know.

Why are all these things the things that are all these things? Answer me that, my little paperclip.

We do not know. We only itch, slightly, above the left knee.

But this is not the one everyone thought it was. If you ask, I will not say, because we should be silent - always - in the presence of the Holy Tea-Strainer of Shrewsbury.