And it was just on the point of the entrance to a vast underground network of interminable tunnels, a cage was put over his head, and Cameroon and Corvyne both approached him..
Well, now, it seems that here we have a sentence in which the words ‘Cameroon’, and ‘bumbling fool’, are both included.
Germy Corvyne sneered, leered, a twisted grimace, his neck arched, and gazing at Lipscombe at a slant. ‘You, you, you traitor!’ Stammered Robert Lipscombe. ‘Ha ha!’ Cried Germy Corvyne, ‘I’ve always been secretly working for the Conservative Party, deliberately demarcating the divide between rich and poor. Can’t you see? They need people like me, for everything to go on exactly as it was! Ha ha! Everything was deliberately calculated, including the mismatched nylon trousers…’
Robert whirled his gaze around him. And now they stood like horrible garogoyles in a row. And now they gazed at him with a somewhat crazed fixity. And now their faces were lit by a livid luminosity, from beneath, emanating from beneath; and they were low lights.
Robert’s little face peered though the bars. Cameroon let fly a dreadful warm jet of saliva, and this found home, and dribbled down Lipscombe’s luckless face/cheeks.
‘I believed in You!’ Lipscombe cried, as, with Cameroon’s spit dribbling down his face, and with Corvyne’s maniacal laughter ringing in his ears, he was carted away down the unterminable flights to a most unpromising outcome.