Great you can type extremely fast. But we should really be getting on with the c++ stuff.
Don't you think I don what the hey lets do it?  wdopod oasdkfnas do what?  it you numpty
What sddo you mean do it i mean do it what? caryy on . let's do the c++ stuff
I'm, just typing as quick;y as I can any old rubbish without even thinking about it you see i don't i'm lind no i'm deaf and dumb and have seven fingers in my mouth on a mountain
with sheep
Have you ever seen a cow jump off a cliff.
Once a friend of mine's sister was walking in the country and she scared a cow and it fell of a cliff
tragic
but funny don't you think
why can't we laugh at death. 
Why not?
I don't know?
Well I'm not scared to laugh at things like that.
If it's funny it's funny.
poor cow.
Then there was the man who lived in the moon with a spade in his pants and an elephant up his nose
he flew about all day and all night looking down on us in order that he understand our funny ways
because that's what he thought of us. How peculiar are these little blobs of water and skin
with a bulbous bit at the top that has an orifice to insert food and twists and shapes
in all sorts of subtle ways to express emotion. 
How queer are these people who line the streets in the snow of the mountains shadow.
Here comes everybody, with a big hug and a slap and a ten pence piece it's all the same to me
there is no sense in putting a stopper in an empty bottle. If I were to write like this everyday
who knows it's not the same without mel. mel was great. the idol. leave a bronze bowl at the altar
it's not far to mandalay. the place always made me curious, it's where nelly the elphant went
I wonder if she is still there. 

When thinking about the lines in the sand it's all too tough a questioin as to whether
a thought happens in the blink of an eye or in less than the blink of an eye, is time 
discrete or continouos, it's an unanswered question, that's jib, jonh pajamas, so I'll put
some ketchup on your Glaucus and walk around the room in noddy and on my hands upside down
with my face in the pillow and the sun out the window and sitting bloated and full like a
fat child on the horizon with curly hair and a big bowl of soup in his tum tum, thats the
way we did it when I was a child. I can put words in order, I can put them in order over and over
again, in this order and that order, with different words here or there, I can think of them
all and follow the rules of grammar, put them all in order and not particularly be saying 
anything at all, indeed, who ever says anything at all I'm not entirely sure. It's the quib
and the quob of the etcheline match, petals on dewey bow. Earth red is the colour I painted
my children when I painted them they sprang to the kitchen and flew out of the dishwasher into
the sink and looked for their apparatus as an apparition cautions men of fewer sentimentality
anyone can put words in orders but how can you tell when there is actually a meaning behind 
the words that is worth understanding, a structure worth imitating, I could look upon the 
moonlight hour as a watchmen in the harbour blows out his torch and spits his phlemy 
epitome out into the orchard of sea things, into the bay of brimming bruels and broads and
sinking slowly to the top of the sea bed, half a jar of brandy and a sawn of fibbia, 
looking rawly on the side of an ant square in the pajamas. 
Of the slippery slopery sandy serpentry that the sextant sought in the sever sea septembery 
he came of a slacking sartibruary sentiment in the sine of the simper pamp.
And all the while in the whimble of the tromp,
the wabe looked thineer, than the former year, 
and the tolerance of the nan, and the dam in the morning rose
she came and ejaculated a handfull off the sawdust in to the simpering sand
with arms and legs like a caterpillar on the dune, of the last king, Hotep the night
in the west, go west, lets go west and onwards down the river to the place of nights
knights, and on and on and on in an experimental fashion until the sweby swam phat onto
his ludicrous father figure, spoilt his unbegootten son a slip full of fingers, and a gold 
watch of scribuculous proportions. 
Where there is want, I shan't stop, I shall make and do, the same as the pearl on the sofa
sank and slipped down the side and it was gone and the maid ran around and spent her legs
on safron 

So said Sandy, shall some sailors sit somewhere, sell some shandy so sarah smiles soar sembrance
sooty swayed swervy snaking sepulchre, seduced sarah saucy simple sign sued savage smokey 
stropbler sourt snow slug solstive suffocate smarmy git.

Coplodger hit my dodger and ducked the doom doppler, to the soor swinging swerver.
It's the sound of the tuck saw on my roof blade that I threw out the window to the snow kitten 
hambaper