Although, 's origin circa 1627 made me still love the word, even if I'd ruined its applicability to my connection with Snarl. (I mean !) Like, I could totally see Mrs. Mary Poppencock returning home to her cobblestone hut with the thatched roof in Thamesburyshire, Jolly Olde England, and saying to her husband, Good sir Bruce, would it not be wonderful to have a roof that doesn't leak when it rains on our green shires, and stuff? And Sir Bruce Poppencock would have been like, I say, missus, you're very with your ideas today. To which Mrs. P. responded, Why, Master P., you've made up a word! What year is it? I do believe it's circa 1627! Let's carve the year--we --on a stone so no one forgets. ! Dear man, you are a genius. I'm so glad my father forced me to marry you and allow you to impregnate me every year.