'S usually where I taste shit from, them li'l holes in my face. Now they're all plugged up an' it don't work. I dunno. Maybe stick like feathers all over on yer tongue. Sure y' got 'em somewhere else but they ain't s'posed t' be there so 's gross.

[Speaking of hair where it usually is. Namur pulls at a bit of the hair on his head, and then pokes his finger at the wild display.]

Thatch's gonna have a hell of a time with this.