Originally posted by realityhack
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Don't worry about the smell of the mic - it's pot noodle residue.Where are we going? And what’s with this hand basket? -
No - seriously, it's worth it - have a taste of this stuff! Bloody marvellous it is.Originally posted by cailin maith View PostRH - are you on drugs? Swapped the shoes???
Anyone get any pringles? I'm starved.Comment
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Pub/fridge. Different vehicle - same effects. Enjoy anyway.Originally posted by voodooflux View Post
from the fridge
Used my monthly "pass out" last weekend
I'm better than dirt. Well, most kinds of dirt, not that fancy store-bought dirt... I can't compete with that stuff.Comment
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Yum!Originally posted by realityhack View PostBazza gets caught
Socrates - "The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing."
CUK University Challenge Champions 2010Comment
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And my shoes?Originally posted by realityhack View PostWhew - sorry about that folks...
Went down to the offie, but on my way there I noticed an open door in the side of a nondescript brick wall - you know, just past the betting shop near Turners Lane. Anyway - I had a peek through it, and there was a flight of stone steps leading down into some sort of underground cavern, which was dimly candlelit.
Obviously, having had a few, I decided to venture a little further - and came to this set of railings - like an old mineshaft railway, with a coal hopper parked up and locked fast to the railings.
Looking further down the tunnel, I could see the stone floor of the tunnel drop away, and the railings continue into the darkness. I was sure I could hear music, and distant voices... So, what the hell, I decided to jump into the coal hopper and release the brake.
As it gathered momentum, soon I was racing through a series of underground tunnels, with the darkness occasionally broken by flashes of torchlight below. There was a small settlement down here, it seemed - I could just about make out the outlines of buildings, in the flickering shadows below.
The hopper gathered pace, and soon I was hurtling down a steep incline - quite afraid and hanging on for dear life - metal screeching against metal, clattering, juddering - once or twice I thought the hopper would derail and slam me into the stone walls... and so it seemed to go on forever, until...
The incline levelled out, the hopper wearily groaned to a slow crawl, rumbling to a stop - my heart racing... and then the dark tunnel gave way to a brightly lit open space... as I came to a halt.
I could hear voices - who would be down here? - I thought. As my eyes grew accustomed to the light, a quaint little villagescape began to take shape - small huts, barrows, a market stall, a tavern - what looked like a well and the crumbled remains of a statue on horseback in the centre of a little village square.
Voices - and then movement. I saw people emerge from the shadows and doorways around. I say people - but these were more like the late Tolkien's hobbits, short in stature, large unwieldy feet, hairy, stubby, stunted creatures - but with a human-like form and expression.
They moved ponderously - furtive, edgy, exchanging sideways glances and whispering. They moved closer, and soon they were around me.
A direct approach - I thought. In for a penny, in for a pound. So I got to my feet, still a little shaky (Cojak's heels didn't help), and brushed myself off. Towering head and shoulders above them - I smiled, and said "What a rush! So, who knows where I can get 20 lights and a bottle of Absinthe around here then?'
Turns out they brew their own - it glows in the dark, see - lethal. Tastes a bit like homegrown Normandy Calvados with a hint of apricot. Quite the little boozers they are - and although they had only a rudimentary grasp of English they were a funny bunch - one of them showed me a cocktail that involves snorting this homebrew and lighting it, blowing fire out like a dragon.
They need to do this regularly - I gathered - as they're a hairy bunch and there's nothing like it for clearing the sinuses. Oh - and they were fascinated by your shoes, Cojak. Thought they made perfect novelty goblets.
Anyway - to cut a long story short, they showed me an old mineshaft with a rack & pulley lift to the surface, and I swapped the shoes for 12 bottles of this gargleblaster juice and some strange-looking snacks, said my farewells before the females (?) began to look too attractive, and surfaced through a hatch round the back of the Spar.
Sorry I'm late and all... hey - is that a karaoke machine? Excellent!
You were seen wobbling out the door with them on.....
<starts toe tapping...>"I can put any old tat in my sig, put quotes around it and attribute to someone of whom I've heard, to make it sound true."
- Voltaire/Benjamin Franklin/Anne Frank...Comment
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Thats the wrong one. You picked up the pot noodle residue.Originally posted by cailin maith View Post
I'm better than dirt. Well, most kinds of dirt, not that fancy store-bought dirt... I can't compete with that stuff.Comment
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Sounds like a great place to start 'Am I going the right way #3"!!Originally posted by realityhack View PostGas masks don't fit snails...
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Quite hallucinogenic. Not too much, mind... be careful with this stuff - it makes Super Unleaded seem like lukewarm chamomile tea.Originally posted by cailin maith View PostComment
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<turns white as realisation dawns>
you still have my shoes, don't you....?"I can put any old tat in my sig, put quotes around it and attribute to someone of whom I've heard, to make it sound true."
- Voltaire/Benjamin Franklin/Anne Frank...Comment
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