Sentence The Sevenhundredandtwentyfourth 

Which was when Shelley 'Bouncer' Ball turned from her computer screen and rang the servants' bell; her husband Gandolfo popped his head round the door: "you rang, my beloved?" at which she scowled: "find out who this MissTeriWoman is who's posting stuff on something called Quadrivial Quandary! she knows I'm planning on having that disappeared bitch Roxy Davidova declared dead, and have her seat as leader of the Party vacated for me!" she had a tendency to use intransitive verbs in her normal speech, believing it made her sound more of a Mafiosi; "oh, yes. dear, I do believe her name is Theresa Somerville, she lives in Melrose and posts her stuff on Blogger too, and . . . . . " he 

who hesitates is lost, for Shelley’s twin headlights transfixed him and he could hardly lift his eyes to hers: "you read her trash? don't answer that, don't incriminate yourself," she repeated the Central Office mantra, thinking to herself, out loud as always: "hold the ring, hold the ring!" and giving Gandolfo a dismissive wave of The Fingers, turned her back on him and began typing furiously, when, of a sudden, her Private Personal Telephone trilled The Dead March from Saul, she dug it out of her bag and pressed the answer button, and the voice she heard was music to her ears: "hi, Sis, it's me!" of the Joy! the soaring unrestrained Joy! as her heart which had been deep in the abyss of a saudade, suddenly jumped for Joy! "is it really you Martin? really you? we saw video on YouTube from some scrote called The Economic Migrant showing you being dumped in the sea after a failed attempt to assassinate Donaldo!" and he sighed, "a mistake my dear, an unfortunate accident, but yes, I'm really here – I'm with cousin Duncan, don't ask me how, I thought I was crawling through Hades when suddenly I popped into his Lounge, along with some children, fuck knows where they came from, but once they were showered and scrubbed they proved rather entertaining, but what I wanted to say was, is: one of them has a remarkable similarity to the First Minister, she's Ginger Goldfish's daughter to the life, I promise you, so we are thinking of making her a suppositious, what do you think? a long lost Bastard, evidence of a fling with the previous First Minister, Slippery Salmon, that should just about kill off her Party's chances in the Election, and if you can become Leader of the Unionists, what a Golden Opportunity! our best chance to pop an Oozy rat in a sanitary zoo if you will excuse the palindrome, Sis!" and she wanted to hold him to her breast, to both of her ample breasts, which already threatened to burst out from her tight dress (she always, but always, wore two sizes too small, and it worked! had not she mesmerised the Party, the Electors – White Trash, all of them – the Media, they loved her, they adored her, she was on a Roll, a Jelly Roll!) and there are even two tame reporters she can bring in, the story will make their names, they'll do it for love of her, "bring it on, Marty, bring it on! stick it up her Arse, Marty, fuck that fuckin bitch like she's never been fucked before – Make Her a fuckin Hysterectomy!"