Murp

Murp is my word. A curious little word, it has no meaning. But yes, it's my word. Murp is my word.
   Word rhymes with Jird. It rhymes with Jird, or bird, or curd, or turd. Turd is a word. A rather smelly word. It does have a meaning. Yes, turd is a word.
   Bird is a word. A rather flappy word. It also has a meaning. Yes, bird is a word.
   Curd, however, isn't a word. It doesn't have a meaning... or a purpose... It's simply four letters that represent nothing. You must feel for the curd, because curd can be a word, as long as you use your imagination. It can mean anything: It can be the hair you get clogging the plughole for your shower; it can be something that no one knows about. However it can not be Murp, and nor can you; it is my word.
   Murp... Curdturdbirdword.
   If you so desire, you can use lemon curd to eat mushy peas. Or use it in hair gel. Or use it to plaster your walls. Or use it to communicate with distant friends. Or (now this is silly) you could even spread it on sandwiches.
   Why, you may ask? Because we all know you are a silly, silly child who loves lemon curd in his sandwiches. Mutant curd is bad. That's almost as bad as Murp.
   Why am I writing this? Ah you see. The only reason is because I can! Nothing like expressing yourself in the way of Curd or Bird or Turd or Murp. Words? Of course they are. Except Murp is mine and mine only. Curd is only real if you imagine it. Bird? You'll understand if you open your curtains and watch the environment. Beautiful. And Turd?I need not explain. I guess Moriarty was right the whole time. (If you have no idea what I mean, read some Sherlock Holmes books.)
   I bid you all a farewell. The first person to make sense of this will get a prize of sorts.

Goodbye.