Picture Perfect

As promised Hx.

When will people learn?



Milky is a deviant.



No-one is safe.



Memory loss? What memory loss?

Recently Jim and I had a conference about the night that was Bell’s, whilst actually drinking Jack Daniel’s. Funny that.

He enlightened me of a couple of other incidents that had occurred which I had neglected to scare you with, sorry, share with you.

Firstly, whilst in search of aforementioned devil’s drink, we thought it best to try our local 24hr Super-duper-market. We drove up the entrance ramp, I did the pedals and Jim tried his hand at the steering malarkey. We parked in a somewhat deserted car park and risked not buying a parking ticket, because 1. That’s the kind of crazy mad-cap thing we do do, and 2. We figured we wouldn’t be long and therefore weren’t technically parking, more pausing in a marked space for a bit.

We strolled down the escalator-come-travellator into the store. Again, no shoppers. Odd. Zombie flash backs. I steadied myself as by now my profuse sweating and heavy breathing was starting to scare Jim.

The electric doors whirred open and we stepped into the store. There in the centre of the aisles stood what I can only describe as one of the most amazing… just kidding. It was empty.

We glanced across to a swarm of green fleeces (the staff) who promptly stared transfixed back at us. We did the internationally recognised gesture for “Is the store open” and they replied with a rather clipped “How the phuk did you get in?” Although they hadn’t shouted it directly we guessed that meant the store was closed.

We returned to the escalator-cum-travellator to find that only the down one was operational. Undeterred we opted for the instant Gladiator challenge and proceeded to attempt to run up the down one. Now, from the bottom it looked a piece of cake. If that piece of cake is 50 feet long made of a track of metal and continually telling you to “mind the step at the end.”

As we reached halfway we realised we were now visible from within the store. The green fleeces turned on mass to glare ruefully at us. Just as Jim began to tire and my Lycra jump suit began to ride up at the back. We eventually collapsed at the top, two gibbering freaks, with no sign of Wolf or Rhino in pursuit… or Malcolm the trolley boy for that matter.

We fled the store wise to the fact that we wouldn’t be welcome again, when it was closed.

The Second incident was the minor detail I had left out about what happened post 6am but pre 12:45pm.

Jim fell asleep before me.

To be fair, Jim was the one who taught me the joys of messing with the semi-dead. So I took the liberty of proceeding to attempt to beat his Greatest-number-of-Minstrels-balanced-on-the-face-of a-sleeping person world record. I drunkenly swayed back and forth attempting to lightly drop them onto his now snoring swede. In truth I swayed them over him like a crane operated by a chimp with two fingers missing who has just read the instruction booklet for a Corby trouser press.

I failed abysmally partially due to my drunkenness and also due to the unhelpful angle of Jim’s head.

Unperturbed I reached for the nearest alternative to chocolate sweets, which turned out to be Wine Gums. Hooray for Wine Gums. How tasty, how versatile, how to stick them onto a slumbering someone’s face?



You’ve got to lick the back of them first.