A Clockwork Orange

“What’s it going to be then, eh?”

And that is me, my little Brothers and Sisters, Your Humble Blog Writer veck, humbly asking, what gives for not yet having your glazzies put on this horrorshow book vesch?

Why, when you make up your rasoodocks for doing it, you shall learn all there is to be learned about pretty polly, and how to earn it. About the lovely devotchkas and their nasty malchiks; and, of course, about the old in-out-in-out. And let us not forget the old moloko, milk plus that is, and the red red krovvy spilling like wonderful vino after an entertaining twenty-on-one tolchoking of some harmless vecks’ litso.

Oh my dear droogs and only friends, you shall even be told about choice, imagine that, choice, on this wicked and cruel world!, such a wicked and cruel world as old Bog sees it desirable to be.

And all that shall be like govoreeted in slovos that are at the height of nadsat fashion, even though you can always go for the sinny piece by old Stanley K.

But anyways is rightways and whatever the choice might be, you may want to itty along with it while missing skolliwoll, and peeting at some milky chai, munching away at some scrumptious toasts with jammywam and eggywegs, and slooshying lovely Ludwig Van and beautiful Wolfgang Amadeus.

Oh, and you shall weep boohoohoo at the misadventures of poor poor little Alex in this heartless world, which is like full of baddywad chellovecks and the nasty tolchoking of the innocent and guilty unalike. And all that cal.

(those of you, my little Brothers and Sisters, who are less learned in nadsat slovos, can always viddy them like at the nadsat dictionary...)