Owh fine. Ya want da real reazon deyz call me Spookums, eh? Well. Sit yer arse down, get sumfin ta snack on, dem 'uumie arms iz gud eatin' and a fungus beer an' let me paint a pictcha in yer finky fing wiv me bootyful words. It woz a day like any uvah. We'd just stormed sum little 'uumie trenches and wuz lootin' scrap ta get me sum 'Ard Armer. Der woz quite a bit ov it, since dis part woz attacked by da 'ole fashun'd Goff Charge. Do, supported by Snakebite Arrer Boyz. So, der i woz lootin' scrap. When i 'erd dis loud old WOOOOSGH! soun' rite? Dey'd got sum ov doze walker fings with burnas clearin' da trenches dey lost ta us. So. Not really 'avin anywer ta go, i jus' stayed wer i woz wen dey got ta me. So, wen i 'erd ta troops commin' in i lept up off da ground, an' ran fer 'em. Now, i woz on fire at dis point still, so az soon as i appeared, der wuz screachins ev 'deemun!" An i zogged da wuns too stupid ta run. Wuz sum good eatin' afta do. Dey roasted der own bodies fer me! Tha walkas didn't come back, do dey wuz 'eaded in da direkshun ov a Dread mob. So. Wun ov da Snakebites who sum'ow servived shouted. "It'z da Burnin' Git!" Before e woz thumped back in da iz sense by a nearboy Goff, who sed. "Nah lad. Dats just da Spookiest Goff evah to 'av lived." I'z got a medal, an told- "Goruk. Yer now called Master Spookums, on account 'a 'ow many 'uumies yer scared da drops out ov." Me boss at da time den gave me a pat on da shoulda, den told me ta sod off.