1, 2, buckle my insurance claim

a lustre for the archaic gibble gabble goose gobble babble of tish and pish rummaging. muddling through criss cross crises of capitalised condolences. whipped up windscreen verbiage and spotty adolescent rashes clash with wipers on waving drizzle days. auto immune system reflexes. wipe it up you wet lettuce. gag it up or put a sock in it. tick tock spanner flinging fantasies of shattered gears and broken disco sticks. corrugated zero-sum insurance waves for fly-wheel hip hazard operational replacement procedures. damaged systems of reclaimable cog and socket surges. hot sparks and then anaesthetising umbrella airbags, curdling on the surface with drip and drop cut cuddles. heavy retinal photon bombardment of "who-ate-all-the-pies?". too slow to latch on to propped up pudding lies. no cutlery for production line propaganda. spiraling domino singularity responsibilities. tick-tack-static-toe worm drones gnawing telegraphic downgrade options on tin foil backseats. brewing up futures of lost foundation. failing principals of fierce top n tail punch-ups reiterating the churning maybe-logic of dog-shit cement mixers. logistics, logistics, logistics. hash-tag, hash-tag, hash-tag.