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Dressed-to-the-nines rose-fresh theatre. Jedward cradle themselves In a pomp-splash box. The snorty edge flurries this raised curtain. ‘Rites Of Spring,’ blurts gabbley lips. The twins dislocate nerves. Bob-up canes, set-against fans in an uproar.

Anne Boleyn disentangles prompts On the Washeteria’s speech bubbles. Self-run gearing is eco-affirmative. Her duvet and pillows outline jauntiness Quickened by a hyperallergic gargle, Phosphate deficient. The dizzy-bouquet whiff Spins and hour into memory.

Reactors superheat uranium, Hatching plutonium – a fume, Radioactive cast-off. Julius Caesar grits teeth, Ashens at Windscale’s pockmarks On a thickset graphite shell. Blue-bag flames peck At a moody critical mass.

Foot-long tresses, plum and tangerine blouse, Ink-smudge breeks – Admiral Horatio Nelson struts. Carnaby St. is a kinetic three blocks. In Lord John’s portal he rib-digs Joe, Land-pirate to a clutter of pharmacies, Shopping list: four honeypots – French Blues. Currency for peacocks is revels or frills.