Land of Diskgrinder

Voice-over plankton strike. It's not an unhappy coincidence that this begins to sound as if we have constructed this post from cut-up spam. That's not my favourite (and you can tell I'm english because I spelt that correctly), no is it my tiresome insistence. See, it's just words that are in random grammatic order. How do you know this isn't generated?

He spat and he spluttered and walked up and down the ranks of bunks. He swore and coughed. His head down and forward, a glower on his brow, he was dark and sour and ill-lit by light from his lantern burning yellow. We called him long-knife , and cowered in our beds, waiting for him to pass. Because: if he turned; if he turned at your bunk; you didn't want to know, and hoped he picked the one above, below, just not you.