You Will Never Guess How Unconvincingly Moist Wobbly Table-Leg Demonstrated His Favourite Sex Position Every Time He Ate Spinach. Krsz's plaintive cries were cut short just then as the bacto-whip bacto-whipped across his face parts, and sliced his predictable words apart like a floppy hot quiche. LIE DOWN ON THE FISHFINGER, in the middle of the gaping chasm. It might be OK.