Blodgett’s diary for this day in 1946:
Pucker crunched duct. Hod tap askew, righted, fumbled. Pit gawped ope, shoved funnel up. Tawny pipit stuck w/ birdlime to spruce. Gnarled bole. Hacksaw honed, whetstone cracked. Figs in punnet. Jug on sill caught light ‘n’ odd, flat ant. Modern barber called. Chopped at tresses and flicked flecked highlit strands. Infected cow udder. Crumpled rag in bin. Bin beside sink. Barbaric gusts. Lemsip. Kite in ash. Go-go dancer in boat on lake in twilight. Noggin puttered. Putter slack. Gutta percha in gunny sack. Milk spilt, night soil sloshed. Stove exploded. Hooves clattered. Dots pricked. Gummed up shrift. Go to work on an egg.
Sure it’s not “Go to work on an eel”?
Mr Cranmer : Oops! Mea culpa. You are of course correct.