A tiny nation can still have an abundance of geography. Absolute size has nothing to do whatever with logical complexity, and Clobstovfia is proof of this. The Administrators were actually forced to construct a map of the territory (which after all was being rented out to another nation) because they were attempting to indemnify themselves against possible tenant damages. If the 'Llombics were to terminate the perpetual lease, the Administrators needed a way to determine if any unauthorized repairs were made or any damage to the lands hastily covered up. Similarly, if one of Clivont Garde Industries poorly constructed experiments went awry, there must be a legal basis to stake a claim. To wit, the official Map of Clobstovfia For a much larger rendition, just click on the image above.
Just for a simple example, the Administrators were called upon by the residents of Parma as well as 'Llome in a judiciary capacity, to decide the damages required when a Clivont Garde Industries experiment had, say, generated an offensive odor that escaped the realm. This damage, for which the term "nonplussment" was coined, was subject to a particular tax, a "nonplussment tax" depending upon the noxiousness and spread of the particular odor. Legal terms for all variety of assessments were needed on a frequent basis, and the fines (to be fair should it happen again), needed to be recorded as precedents.
Here is the cover and dedication of the phrasebook:
The micronations of 'Llome and Clobstovfia, through their U.S. consulate-general, the Sultan of Consultin', wish to thank all browsers who have passed this way. Is any of this real? Indeed, all exhibits and representations shown on these pages exist in tangible (and not merely electronic) form, dating to ca. 1963. Clobstovfia, or at least the territory, certainly exists to this day no less positively than, say, Eastern Airlines, Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Alex Delage (from A Clockwork Orange), Khosh, G'kar, and Delenn, little nickel bottles of milk sealed with pull-off cardboard disks, or streetcars.
On that sleepless, moonless summer night...when the crickets have gone silent, and all you can hear is a gentle tick...tick...tick...or a trace of a melody in the air from an unfamiliar wind instrument (possibly a cornemuse)...then you will know that Tick Puffins and Two-Inch Pigs exist, too. And when you slip out of the house on that dewy morning, and your wingtips glisten with drops of moisture...it could be you just passed a joyful Flig...
(A Historical Note...where did this all come from?)
(Back to the Sultanate)