"Why's there grass on my blancmange, what have you done to it?"
"It got spilt in the mixing, I had to scrape it up and hope for the best"
"My fork's got it tangled up now, the grass, I can't get it apart from the grass and the blancmange is in my mouth with bits of grass"
"Why's it green? It was pink in the mix then it went wrong and something happened"
"I've got grass in my teeth and the blancmange is green, I like it --sort of sick-- but it's in my mouth"
"Let's call it Flaubertgine"
"Oh! it's different colours like her eyes, she sparkled and watered and my mouth --the grass-- it's soft and the fork is metal on my grassy teeth"
"Flaubertgine surprise, plain daily and nightly obscene"
"She was about nothing... like this it tastes sick and wanting, just tightly mank"
"Oh God if Ambrosia were this good we Juliens'd be Flash Gordons to Emma's Barbarella"
"I've got bits of grass coming out of my mouth and my teeth are green and it's the sex"
[I hereby apologise to every reader]