A deathly hush has reigned o’er Haemoglobin Towers for the past couple of days, for no particular reason other than a lack of activity in Mr Key’s cranium. However, here is an alphabet.

Ankle, Bludgeon, Cuspidor, Dinghy.

Emphysema, Fiddlesticks, Gymnasium, Hod.

Ink, Jam, Kohlrabi, Lumps.

Meringue, Nipper, Oppidan, Preen.

Quetzalcoatl, Rotogravure, Spuds, Tweak.

Umbel, Vainglory, Whaler.

Xyster, Yellowhammer, Zinc.

Large, if not gigantic, oil paintings of all twenty-six items are currently in preparation. The canvas has not been primed, the brushes have not been cleaned, the paints have not been bought. But the turps! The turps! The turps is in its bottle, at the ready.