Codswallop as we know it was first invented by simple people
with time on their hands to pass it around in: they could see it
there, criss-crossing the land of give and take. They wanted
plenty, and got it too. For years it proved a subtle itch, but just
as one thing leads to the next, irrevocably speaking, so it
eventually came to pass that an ache developed and a cry went
up: “Which way now, boss?” And so it has gone ever since:
your guess is good, like mine, yet both bear the imprint of
imaginary outcomes – promises, if not signed undertakings, that
the rash passed between us will, in hindsight, signal an
agreement.