We find Hummpa-Taddum – the Squirming Word, whose name means the shape it is – perched precariously on the supposedly impenetrable wall of signification.

Something shattering is about to hatch, and the aeonic fragility of Hummpa-Taddum is soon comfirmed by a calendric calculation of unbirthdays – counted to the n -1, through which meaning subsides into the sub-literal machinic efficiency of numbers ...

“... and that shows that there are three hundred and sixty-four days when you might get unbirthday presents …”

“Certainly,” said Alice. “And only one for birthday presents, you know. There's glory for you!”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘glory’,” Alice said.

Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. “Of course you don’t – till I tell you. I meant ‘there's a nice knock-down argument for you!’”

“But ‘glory’ doesn't mean ‘a nice knock-down argument’,” Alice objected.

“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, “it means just what I choose it to mean – neither more nor less.”

“The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words mean different things.”

“The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, which is to be master – that’s all.” (p.185)