This week’s words: Yew (any of several evergreen, coniferous trees and shrubs: the fine-grained, elastic wood of any of these trees: an archer’s bow made of this wood: this tree or its branches as a symbol of sorrow, death, or resurrection) Harbinger Dross (waste matter; refuse. Metallurgy. a waste product taken off molten metal during smelting, essentially metallic in character. British. coal of little value.) Pour Crush Trudge Prickle Green Inward Psittacism (mechanical, repetitive, and meaningless speech.) Toes Froth
The dross that came from his mouth was embarrassing to say the least. The psittacism he received as a result only served to make him try harder. We did try to explain that it was better if he didn’t allow such piffle to pour from his mouth but rather give it a second before his brain engaged with his mouth.
Not wishing to crush him completely we suggested he look for harbingers of how he was going. Audience asleep meant something as did the rolling of our eyes when he made some outlandish comment. After all we explained being Prime Minister did come with some responsibilities. You couldn’t just say anything. Despite the efforts of the prospective leader of the free world.
Think inward we said, wriggle your toes when you feel you are about to froth at the mouth.
We suggested he go out when he felt in a pickle because something had prickled him into action he might regret. He had developed a habit of grabbing his favourite yew bow and firing arrows at effigies of his most disliked opponents. His yew bow painted a bright green he carried over his shoulder as he’d trudge out to the target area more often than not practicing his own brand of psittacism usually aimed at the comments he’d either heard or read about in the morning papers.