Welcome to issue four of 'Zolid Matters', the vaguely newsy and fairly lettery newsletter of the BJZ. Its purpose is to disseminate blatt and waffle about Jameld and to encourage the discussion of pünktmönös Jameldic subjects. Ocularly gifted readers will note that ZM4 is a tadlet flasher in presentation than its predecessors, which usually means with publications that they're getting too big for their boots. Fat chance: this thing couldn't get big if it swallowed a leaky canister of helium.
This is the first instalment of a new feature: 'A Phrase A Quarter'. Herein are provided a pair of useful sayings, suitable for any occasion. Any occasion, that is, where it is not imperative to be understood; utilization of these pithy gems during, say, a job interview or a visit to the vet could mean the end of your chances of work, or, indeed, Flopsy's chances of anything. Thus forewarned, please proceed:
Excuse me, sir, your toupee's on fire.
Dest~sildyë Eörel, yeü hïrdel'st brinin.
Don't worry, it's not mine anyway.
Na sorgyë. Et na jist meüs, éfen.
Armed with this new knowledge, you can happily confound hairpiece wearers and innocent bystanders in shopping precincts across the land, and, at this rate, you'll be fluent sometime in the 23rd Century.
Er . . . something of a stalemate in the translation department at the moment, as energies are being expended in other areas--nim. Jameldic technological advances, keeping at least half-sane, ensuring limbs don't fall off, uid. However, there are a number of ongoing projects bubbling under (although nothing a good dose of kaolin won't fix).
We regret to have to inform you that Sigmund V. Bollweevil, long-serving member of the BJZ Information Department, went mad several months ago and declared himself an autonomous root vegetable. He has been replaced by new pseudonym Zipo Bibrok 5 × 108, from whose skills we hope to benefit for many weeks to come. The staff at the Obscure Enquiries Desk are always willing to answer your queries about Jameld or J2. Indeed, one of SVB's last tasks was to reply to the following letter from BJZ member S. Bartfast:
Dear Big Uncle Sigmund,
I have recently been deeply, intensely, zealously troubled, disquieted and perplexed by this philosophical question, puzzle or enigma: What is the Jameld for "Flocci-nauci-nihili-pili-fication"? Also I am addicted to my Thesaurus. Please help, aid, render assistance, spoonfeed, . . .
Dear Fiend, [possibly a typing error,this]
Thank you for your turnip of the 14th inst. In answer to your questions: 1) a half-hundredweight of prize carrots; 2) "Bizoin"; 3) mangel-wurzel chutney. I trust that this satisfactorily parsnips your beetroot.
Yours etc., S.V. Bollweevil
As you can see, his impending mental instability was beginning to become apparent. May this be a lesson to us all.
Inek te fëft~s iko--Hauf! JJ.
Te Britaz Jameld Zolidaton
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