There was a man named Byron. He came very close on a number of occasions to becoming the OFFICIAL Byron of the world (that is to say, he would be the avant garde, or tour de force Byron of the whole world. Surely this concept is familiar to the reader). Byron was tall. Tall as say, an average of 1.2% taller than the average person. He would tower over the shorter like a sort of canopy draped over some dying dafodils. He sold mustard, dying peacefully in his sleep.
The End.