Jonnie von Feortan was sitting in the distance. He then suddenly turned his face towards you, and stared at you for 48.97 seconds. Jonnie von Feortan then ran up to you, and stopped when he's about 6.9 feet away from you. Jonnie von Feortan then spinned around anticlockwise for 0.1278976 minutes until he's facing the Southwest direction. Jonnie von Feortan said: "I am the Jonnie von Feortan." Jonnie von Feortan then walked 5 inches to his left, and said: "Timber wood. Tinder fakers. Indus river. HA!!!" Jonnie von Feortan suddenly ran in circles around you. He then danced for 4.564911 minutes, before stopping, a walked to a spot 11.69432 yards behind you. Jonnie von Feortan spoke: "Album. Album!!! Album. Contradicting statement of impending events and sensations from Galicia and the Caucasian people. Album. Album. Album. Feel. Shrimps is bugs. Album. Celtic." Jonnie von Feortan abruptly stops walking, his body freezing at a 37-degree angle to the ground. His eyes widen as if he's just remembered that cheese exists. "The melting of the iron," he declares solemnly, "but the stick is covered in wood, and the lingering scent of forgotten libraries." He sniffs the air dramatically. "Turnips are scriptures." Without warning, he pulls out a small pouch of dried thyme from his doublet and sprinkles it in a perfect circle around his left foot while humming 'Greensleeves' backwards. "The thyme knows," he whispers conspiratorially, "it is twelve." He leans uncomfortably close, his breath smelling inexplicably of lavender and pickled herring. "The answer is always potatoes. Unless it's Tuesday. Then it's kangaroos." Jonnie von Feortan began dancing again, and then he stopped. He walked slowly in random directions whilst staring at your nape. Jonnie von Feortan said: "You are not Perth."