I walked through a park, bursts of hand-clapping kept exploding behind me. I finally identified a Tourette-ey man bobbing around in a suit, face clenched in concentration, his clapping was interspersed with lamp-post-tapping and tree-kissing.
I made straight for the big fig tree, clipped off a few of it's new sappy leaves and stuffed them down the front of my vest so that the figgy scent could waft around me for the rest of the day.
Locofaulisms.
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Longtime Hatter Martin Langeveld writes me as follows: In the Dutch edition
of Wikipedia, I came across this article about “locofaulisme”, the Dutch
term f...
2 hours ago
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