'Ah?' by Jack Burston

"I can't, I'm going to Bermont-trafflo."
"Ah?"
"Bermonttrafflo; to see Rusko?"
"Where's Bermonttrafflo?"
"Near, Glue-stirrer?"
"Whaticus?"

Cameron Durswith had an erstwhile friend with small, tapered ear lobes and a desperately skinny set of wrists. Durswith, naturally, confused his friends with inaccurate descriptions of place names, as well as the irrational nature of his journeys to such places in order to obtain entronz in to places such as airports and Italy. If Cameron Durswith was successful in a description of a geographical joint, it was usually irrelevant.

Raj and No-leans sat behind the industrial factory and relaxed in the stuffiness of the eighties fabric, Raj jittered:

"Bermont-trafflo, is that a real name?"
"Can't see it, sounds unreal in my opinion?"
"Keep saying 'tune' like this: chonn!"
"Au natur bretherin, au natur, anywho: Bermont-trafflo?"
"Might have to Encyclopedia it?"

Raj and No-leans, now with chocolate milk sat, and No-leans mumbled:

"Did you Encyclo it brev?"
"True that."
"Verdict?"
"Well, according to Encyo, slash this atlas thing I've got, it's technically Bermont near Trafflo. The bus station is called Bermont and Trafflo. There is no Bermonttrafflo. Bit of a tune I reckon."
"Bit of a chonn you mean?"
"Chonn."