Skull Pole

Neck, nape, scruff, collar.

In red rage Mr Holt bellowed at the fuel attendant, “We don’t say petrol, we say GAS you pommy cunt!” while strangling the poor man’s skull pole.

Skull Globes

Eyes.

Xehuti rose up into the air. His new wings holding him high above the battlefield’s dead. Good men who were driven unto pastures so green but at what cost? The tears fell from his skull globes.

Cuntox

A cross between a cunt and a toxic person.

The saloon doors swung open and Oltha the town cunt strode in. He bellowed to the soused rabble there, “Heyo all. I’m not just the town cunt anymore. I’ve become worse. Im now toxic as well as a cunt. I’m the county’s very first Cuntox!”

Bwampf

Fart sound.

The luncheon of cucumber sandwiches, jellies and champagne was proceeding smoothly when above the ambient chatter could be heard what sounded an abrasive trumpet blast as Mr Glab had lifted his leg and cranked out a garrulous ‘bwampf’.

Skull Mat

Tongue

After many hours of torture the jailor leaned towards his captor who had not uttered a single word and he snarled, “Not saying anything today are we now Mr Holt? The cat got your skull mat?”