Larger species of greying elf found grazing in areas of dense literature. Believed to survive predominantly on crime novels, which it consumes leaving only traces of a brittle, crisp-like substance as evidence of its existence. Crispin-catching emerged as a popular pastime during the 1830's, but the practice is now obsolete. Historians have recently questioned the validity of crispin sightings, and indeed they are now generally regarded as mythical creatures by the majority of the populus, believed in only by crazed booksellers who have recently been Dowl
"Quick carruthers! Fetch the rifle or indeed the dustpan and brush! I believe I have a crispin in my sights!"
Portal of absolute lunacy and hotbed of psychotic behaviour. Where dense legions of the disturbed appear, reappear and vanish indiscriminately, hounded by invisible demons and caught eternally between the havens of Ranelagh
and Rathgar, longing to find their way home. "It's under the stairs in the Swan Centre!", I shouted, but to no avail. They just walked through me.
"Does this bus go to Rathmines?"
"No. NO. GOD NO! PLEASE. NOT THAT PLACE. ANYWHERE BUT THAT PLACE! LEAVE NOW. WHILE YOU STILL HAVE A CHANCE. THEY WILL KILL YOU ALL. ALL OF YOU. FLEE! FLEE FOR YOUR DEAR LIVES!"
An utter stronzo, and foolish wonder. It is regularly amazing how ignorant this person can be. Often wearing all-over designer gear, to prove how 'special' they are. A cock.
"What an Anus McAnus from the clan McAnus. An offensive to the organic legions."
The absolute antithesis of sincere behaviour in human form. Namely executed in completely nonsensical and ridiculous taskmaking within the workplace, encouraging the widest possible deviation from the direct route of A to B (via Z). Also an adequate description of idiotic juvenile behaviour (the like last seen in the playground) carried out by a grown woman/beast.
"Could you immediately fill out five forms in triplicate for the next toilet paper order?"
"Yes! In the name of insane bovinity, I shall! (Ya fat heifer)."
One who chooses to bid farewell with a jolting thrust of the groin amid mass confusion and semi hysteria whilst possessed by the spirit of Sir Stephen Hawking.
"It is now time for me to depart."
"Yes. Farewell you fiend."
"Allow me to hump you over the threshold by means of strange familiarity."
"So be it, humperbatch."
"Parting is such sweet sorrow."
Geographical location for varying scientific projects such as, how long can scrambled eggs exist after being reheated 9 times? How many looneys can you fit within four walls? When does madness actually stop, if ever?
"Mmmm. I fancy a load up. Is there a local asylum I might indulge my appetite in?"
"Why yes! Try Kyliemore's. It's hilarious."
Ideal chosen excuse for having the morning off work, ideally to attend an interview for a rewarding job. Completely throws any bovate suspicion as hypochondria is accepted as the norm.
"I won't be in 'til 12 today as I have a physio appointment on my dodgy knee."
"Oh okay. I hope you feel better afterwards."
"Oh I will, you bove. I will. Lie-ins are truly therapeutic."