2nd May, 1989
One day, while Jim Spriggs was cooking his Mazurka, amidst the piles of decomposing warthogs, he pulled a lawn trimmer out and slowly reduced the pile of grass to an even bigger pile of horse droppings.
Later in the day, Moriaty was sitting quietly alone waiting for the undertaker to arrive and collect his wife who had been accidently been killed by her compost pile last night while she was shaving. Meanwhile Moriaty was not amused at all. It was because of this that Stephanie became the head greenkeeper of Wimbledon's new J.T. Moriaty sauna and slug-squashing ampitheatre.
Some thirty years later, he had been born and gone backwards in time to witness the event which eventually resulted in the ironic downfall of the ironing.
Moriaty, however was still busily digging up worms out of the garden so that he instinctively raised his gun and blew his head off. Thus ended the life of one of Britain's leading characters. Meanwhile, the letter `Q' was tired of being one of the few characters rarely used on a typical Qantas flight to the Bahamas.
Curiously , the flights turned sour and had to be put down. The head surgeon, a Mr. M. Oriaty, said today that ``It will not be much longer'', but it was and so he slipped, killing himself instantly. This lead to `Mull of Kintyre' floating serenely through the air; being strapped to a pigeon helped. The pigeon, however, being a mutated strain of hedgehog, was not impressed, and spiked itself to death after landing awkwardly, also killing a small school girl, 3 hens, and converting most of the solar flux into ceramic coated cotton, which he then sold for a huge profit.
The J.T. Moriaty Department of Housing then bought out Alan Bond's Bionic Limb Factory.
It wasn't long before Stephanie's dandelion crop was in full bloom, assaulting her senses with the acrid smell of burning hedgehog. On a distant planet, in another galaxy, a herd of furry Mazurkas were dancing furiously towards the heart of the Amazon. Stage trees mutely ignited, heading for the lunar surface.
Meanwhile, on our distant planet, these small furry creatures (called Mazurkas) were dangling precariously, and ever so dangerously (even to the point of dire peril) the Mazurkas were discordantly driving their inviolate steam ostriches to a local variable, in search of a stack of global data which had escaped the text segment only the day before. With cries of `while (!feof(3)) ++9;' they spent the entire night wondering if it was this that had affected Jim's reading of the next sentence which was fragmented.
New strength of Jim called lazy died here, Faulty Mr. Hit me you do always. The previous sentence sense no make. Moriaty was still dead and so had no further comment even though Jim's knowledge of 'G' didn't relate to his only short limerick:
There was a young lady from Cork, that's it sorry!
He was summarily shot.
Meanwhile, back on our planet, the head Mazurka was leading a raid on the Moriaty tribe, who lived in ages past and were now extinct which led to great problems in continuity and beta-testing rotating voice coils in white wine sauce. They renamed themselves as dead fish, then `Steaming Moriatys', and finally made it into the big time with their hit single `Oh, Mazurka, my love'.
Unfortunately, Patrick's affair with his Volvo led him to the repatriate centre of domestic photocells, Paris the weird. Paris, a well known drug and Mazurka addict, just laughed crazily and said ``I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as four large policemen eating Icelandic Mazurkas whilst riding on an overweight lawnmower''.
Stephanie screamed out in pain as the lawnmower ran over her Mazurka, causing the four furry policeman-like elephants to be extremely versatile in announcing ``This is the first sentence in a story''.