READ THIS

READ THIS

SOME REAL FUNNY SHIT - A story

CHAPTER ONEG: TINTED WINDOWS

Young Tony was on the beach when he found what looked like a seashell. However, on closer inspection and through a series of complex litmus tests he realised that it was actually a fossilized caveman fart. He ran as fast as his little dwarf like legs could carry him, to see Professor Sockameeny at the county museum. On the way there he bumped into Desmond Danzibar the local dealer who was so surprised at Tony's discovery he swallowed his own crackpipe. Desmond was a strange character in that he as missing three fingers on his right hand, this scared young Tone. Overcoming his big-time fears, Tony, or Tongueflips as he was know to his mates (for reasons that we will discover later), struggled on towards Professor Sockameeny's clutching the caveman fart fossil in his hot little hands. Little Tony reached up to knock on Professor Sockameenys door and foolishly dropped the fossil, splitting it into 3 pieces. Undeterred, Tone remoulded the fragments in his own arse, then broke into the Profs office dancing slowly and shouting - "I've only gone an dun it in eye Sockarse. I've only gone and found it".
"How dare you steam into my office like that!" said Prof Sockameeny as he quickly refastened his bra. "Anyway, what have you found?".
"Its real sir...its real sir...and it still rocks the spot....check it professor...safe." The Professor knew exactly what it was - he should do, he'd devoted the best part of his life to finding it. The elation was intense, and he celebrated the only way he knew how - he broke out the Tuba from under his desk and started to play. "Its a fucking Tuba" yelled Tony in his incredibly high voice. Tones reverberating squeals set off a vortex in the mouth of the Professors Tuba which mutated the song that he was playing into 'Firestarster', the energetically charged dance floor hit from Essex anarchists The Pro-dargy. It's hypnotic grooves, pulsating rhythms and hateful lyrics sent Tone and the Prof into a drug induced frenzy.
Their orgy of extended joy was halted when Barrington Levy entered. He had been dislodging the crackpipe from Desmonds thorax, and when he had herd the rumour that the fart had been found, he immediately made his way to the Museum. He entered saying only two words - "fuck" and "shit", quietly and repeatedly, and hoisted himself upon the filing cabinet where he sat, with his back to the others, staring at the wall. Many stories had been told about Barrington, both Tony and the Professor had heard them all. Tony's favourite was the story that involved Barrington and a local tramp, Dave Mouthwash, who used to sleep under the old railway bridge. Tony sniggered to himself and Barrington immediately turned around to reveal a face that can only be described as hideously fleshy. The two of them new that a fight was inevitable and so Tony quickly strapped on his tongue-blades and charged in with is mouth cutting and lashing in a blur of shinning steel. The Prof donned his battle cape and helmet, unleashed a mighty war wail and followed close behind. Tony couldn't help compare the situation to the Oscar winning Mel Gibson smasher "Braveheart" - he leaped with joy and glee, his arms waving like an insane sod, when suddenly he felt the strangest sensation running down his spine - he turned to see that the Professor had accidentally fired off an arrow. It had landed in Tones ass - causing him to drop the fossil. All participants froze when the ancient ritualistic rock smashed into millions of pieces. There was an awkward silence in the room until Barrington Levy stepped on ingeniously placed proximity mine which blew his arm clean off. To this he remarked "tis but a scratch", and the battled continued. Soon after, all four of his limbs had been removed and he begrudgingly admitted defeat. The Prof and Tony took off their belts and strapped the helpless stump to a swivel chair. Underneath, Levy was pleased with his new mode of transport, but jokingly commented "I'll look like a right penis on this"....everyone started to laugh.
Just then Des Danzibar burst into the room with the biggest rock of crack you've ever seen. Des had this amazing knack of stopping fights. He whipped out what he called his "Mangoony Flips" This contraption was the most intense thing that the professor had ever seen. But it didn't work, so he put it away.
"Lets get down to some serious bithiness" exclaimed the prof, "As you all know, the great tombs of Grinstead have been shut for a thousand thousands, and accordingly to kev legend the only thing that will open them is a fossil of cavemang farck. We need to plan the expedition, and uncover the secrets of the tomb, but we need to move farse."
They packed their bags as quickly as possible, Tony making sure not to forget his fags, lighter and Fisher Price Swingball set. Barrington swapped the wheels on his swivel chair for skis so that he would be able to tackle the rough Grinsted terrain and the Prof put on a specialist sports bra for extra support. As they marched out the door, Des paused for one moment and spared a thought for all homeless people.
Just as the boys headed off on their incredible journey it started to rain. In unison they screamed "Balls" Tony had forgotten the balls to his Frisher Priceless swing set. They had also forgotten their trusty sidekick - Cliponka - a cross breed dog with four legs - yes, four legs. They headed off into the storm to fetch trusty Cliponka. Barrington trekked back alone. The others hung around, smoked fags and took the piss out of everyone in sight. Before long Barrington re-appeared with Cliponka (who co-incidentally had the missing swingball ball in his mouse). They all boarded the No.68 to Clapham, sat upstairs at the back (hrrrrr..), and started to discuss the mission ahead...."Check this out" said Tony, then starred into space (trying not laugh). "That�s nothing" replied Barrington "check this out" and did the same. The prof didn't see the funny side and immediately threatened them both with his flick knife - "pull yourselves together you gays". Cliponka chuckled and pissed on the floor.
Just at that moment, three rather nice young ladies got onto the bus; Tony farted with glee. In an attempt to impress them, Barrington started doing card tricks while Des and the Professor drunk peach schnapps through novelty straws - a real spectacle I can tell you. The girls were duly impressed and slowly danced towards the boys. Tony let off another big'un and the girls clapped and cheered.
"Where are you hunky lads off to" shouted one of the female posse.
"Fuck off you slag" shouted Des as he sparked up another pipe.
"What did you flipping well say" replied the girls. Des stood up and stabbed all three off them with his pencil sharpener. Then the conductor came up the stairs, which made them rather slippy, especially as he was in fact an elephant seal in labour. The lads didn't have travelcards or any money between the lot of them, only a few roman coins which Tony had collected from the beach a few months back. He'd kept them in a marmite jar in his coat pocket, filled with vinegar, what he hadn't realised was that in all the fuss down at the museum, the jar had cracked and the vinegar spilt all down his pants. He tried to keep it quiet but Cliponka had picked up the scent and was already busily lapping up the delicious mixture of vinegar and elephant seal cum.
By this time, Des was floating about 2 to 3 feet above the ground and was starting to drift towards an open window. Tones quickly grabbed one of Des' Hi-Tec Silver Shadows but this failed to stop him. The other two grabbed on as well and all four floated out of the bus on a crack-induced flight of fancy. Cliponkas, having gorged himself on the vinegar/cum feast, rapidly lost the will to live. However, he could not help but laugh when his bungled suicide attempt caused a passing OAP to be impaled on a large wooden piece of wood. The three girls got off at Norwood Junction and began selling their services at a ridiculously cheep rate. Blow jobs for only �1.49 inc VAT with a money back slap for rude remarks.
Despite the recent very peculiar goings on - the boys continued undeterred with their travels. The Tomb of Grinstead was getting closer. But first they needed some clues. They needed to learn more before they could embark any further.
On Channel 4's popular letters game 'Countdown' there was once a very peculiar contestant call Hipshak Kipur. He had the biggest brain ever and all who saw him marvelled at his effortless word play and general numerical skills. Meanwhile, back on earth, Tony and the boys were hot on the heals of some damn fine clues. They had found out that the Grand High Duke of Martines owned a Tomb in Grinsted called 'The Fucking Shithole'. However, as this place was famed for its many dead bodies and large bi-spectacled beasts dancing to endless 80's party hits they concluded that this was not the Tomb they were looking for. So off they went, counting their steps as they trod. They walked for what seemed like years. Tony and co. were getting tired. Des had fainted on several occasions - he was stating to think he was a gay. It turns out that Des was not actually gay, but purely a homosexual. Tired and Hungary, our four adventurers decided to stop off for a kebab at Dave's Kebab Emporium. Dave was a dab hand on the grill and cooked them up some fine burgers, but as he had run out of baps the boys had to knit pieces of lettuce together to created an adjustable burger harness. After eating, Tony converted the harness into a rather nifty helmet of which the others were rather jealous. "Fair enough" shouted Desmond "See if I give a shit...you're all muppets" Des stormed out of the kebab shop with his arms in the air. He left the others behind. They were baffled with his behaviour. However, all was soon explained when they saw the packet of tampons that Des had dropped - his menstrual mood swings were legendary.
Just then, Cliffdiver Richards walked in with a large bowl and some leaves whistling Fat Boy Slim's "Funk Soul Brother" tune.
"Wanker!" cried the Professor and charged at him with a light bulb.
"Check it out now...the funk soul brother...check it out now" he screamed over the throbbing beats.
"Check what out?" bellowed Tony. Richards reached for the stop button on his ghetto blaster - when suddenly his cowboy hat flew off. He picked it up to see that a bullet had passed right through his beloved Stetson. Who would attempt to murder the Infamous cliff diver? Everyone looked baffled. They all seemed shocked, as if they had just seen a ghostly cock.
Although native to Grinstead, ghostly cocks are often found roaming the dramatic landscapes of America's mid-west. They feed on small springs and enjoy leaving doors slightly a jar. In the summer, their heads swell to three times their normal size and sex is always on their minds. Much like Des, who at this point had robbed a bank, washed up some spoons and created some mental bass. Back at Dave's Kebab Emporium thing had escalated into a fuck-hard gun battle.
It was beyond a freaking joke at this stage. "There's too much cocking about" screamed Tones " We've got to get back on track...what with Cliffs dance hits and Dezzers crack habit, we are getting no where" Tony was visibly upset. As he held back the beers he reminded the crew of their mission.
"When I found this cocking fossil I was relying on you rockers to help me out....I'm starting to regret ever showing this item to professor Sockammeeny in the first place. "Toss off you shit munchers" he yelled - as he headed off the find these blasted Grinstead caves on his japseye.
He was about to give up when, as if by magic, Payne Stacey appeared in a pink leather dressing gown holding what appeared to be a hand full of House of Fraser vouchers. Payne was working as the main distributor for Agfa photo film in East Africa, when he received a vision from God about Toni's quest. God had revealed that Tone was confused about the whereabouts of the Tombs, and God instructed Payne to come and guide him to the real destination - not Grinstead in Sussex, but Grinstead in AFRICA.
When Payne informed Tony of his basic geographical error he kicked himself - "What a complete fool I've been" he chuckled. The others were not so amused and laid a few kicks in as well. After Tony had regained consciousness, Payne lead them towards the airport but secretly did not have a clue how they were going to get to Africa. He had heard stories of great wing'ed beasts cast out of metal with fire and feathers and small sachets of nuts; but knew that these were all lies.

CHAPTAR TWO: REGIONS HERE WE COME

Tony had luckily kept his Sainsbury's Reward Card with him - with this he was able to pay for the flights. Des insisted on going 1st class but Tony wouldn't be persuaded. Des sulked, shouting "you bastard - you look like a crap" - But despite his protest he still boarded the plane. The crew all had a few giggles at customs when Barrington was strip searched by a gentleman with a very hairy back indeed. Barrington had nothing to hide - unless it was illegal to carry his toe nail clippings over seas. The customs official found these along with some old newspaper cuttings, a rotten cock and some aged gentlemen in a watery grave. They were allowed through all the same. "Hooray!...well cool - lets fly the fucking hell out of this crib" they all yelled in unison.
The inflight movie was 'While You Were Sleeping', a light-hearted romantic comedy staring Hollywood beauty Sandra Bollocks. Unsurprisingly, this sparked off a riot and Tone was once again forced to don his tongue-blades and kick up some real live shit. The stewardesses fought like girls. Day turned to night. Small animals hid nuts and berries in preparation for winter. As the plane approached it's stop-off point in Bangkok, Barrington started winking at himself. Tone had heard rumours on animal sex availability in Bancock, and this started to become a major problem. Almost consistently, as soon as the plane had landed, Tone was trying to break free, trying all the old classics - "I'm just going to the toilet" (while crossing his fingers behind his back); or "Look at that spider up there lads". Tone had no self control, and had Barrington not taken strong action and attached him to his leg, the mission may well have been aborted. In an attempt to divert Tones obsession, he marched him to the duty free shop - "Three bottles of YSL Jazz for the lads please". The Jazz started to kick in nicely, and soon the team were focused once more. "Connecting flight to Kenya ready for boarding" rang over the Tannoy. Tone put on his best limp, Des donned his fishing jacket, and all three were breaking out their flecked Farah's as they headed for the boarding gate once more.
These boys were excited. They couldn't stop smiling. They were off to Africa - the land where lions, polar bears and goldfish roam the plains. A place of mystery. A place of excitement. A place with tombs and secrets. As the plane took off Tone, looking out the window, thought to himself "am I going to find what I want in this strange world of spears and bongos....what is the answer...where are the clues..." He fell into a deep sleep. Dreaming.......
Approximately 5 minutes into Tony's dream the spirit ghost of ex-Newsround presenter Terry Badou appeared to him. 50 to 60 small wizards were flying around Terry's head, all trying to show off their new Nike Airs and win his favour, but he was not impressed.
"Tone!" wailed Terry, " I come with a well important message".
"But this is just a dream" quizzed Tony, "it don't mean shit?"
"That's were you're wrong young Tone, I have news of the Tombs that you seek. You're YSL Jazz cologne will do you no favours in Kenya. You must seek out the Tribe of Susan Susans and gradually gain their confidence through an extended period of foreplay. They do not know of the tombs but guard the magic twig which will allow you to enter!" And with that, Terry evaporated.
Tone was awoken by the tapping of a parrot on his plane window. "Piss off" mimed Tone and before he could say anymore the startled bird slipped gracefully across the wing and into the jet turbine engine emitting a colourful blaze of tropical fruit drink. Des saw and clapped quietly. With only three hours to go the lads took full advantage of the duty free and got a crate of Brut 33 in. Spirits were high, and various passengers wallets and handbags went missing. In what seemed like no time the seatbelts had been fastened, and the plane began to descend onto the spade-ridden plains of Kenyarse. The view was beautiful. The snowy peaks of Mount Everest were visible through Tones window. As the plane came into land a loud thud was heard. The constant banging noise was coming from the cargo hold. They opened up to see Barrington fighting with a young lion cub. The two of them looked inseparable..... and in fact they were. The lion cub had got a bit cheeky and snagged several of his claws in Barrington's argyle cardigan. "Get it off me, get it off me!" screamed Barrington, but there was no budging it. He was forced to wear the pesky cub like a ruck-sack and the boys used its mouth and stomach to store their duty free. The four of them death-dived their way to the Taxi Rank and while waiting for a cab they all stood with their arms crossed, holding their chins Hip-Hop rapper style.
"Ah yeah...back once again its the renegade master" rapped Barrington.
"Stop shouting you are embarrassing us all" squeaked Tony.
Barrington wouldn't shut up "throw yer hands in the air like you just don't care"
"Lets go" said Tony. They jumped into a passing cab. The driver turned round and all the passengers froze. The driver was none other than Steve Stone the Aston Villa/ Geordie right winger "wayha man were are you boys off to?"
"It's a secret you northern football wanker!" said the Professor.
"Yeah!" cried Des, "and we'll inflict some shit if you don't get busy running dem wheels quick". So Steve floored it. In the boot they could hear Alan Hanson conducting a post-match analysis of the Villa - Man U game exclusively for Capital FM. Dr Fox was chipping in with the odd comment but Alan was basically running things.
As they sped through the night, Steve cranked up his beloved Dixons in-car entertainment system. The Phil Collins classic 'Invisible Touch' blasted out of the car�s two rear bass bins and for miles around small animals scrambled for cover. In Africa, Phil was regarded as quite a pioneer in alternative music and his albums topped the indie music charts for months on end. The government vehemently disapproved of his tuneful melodies and rhythmical drum playing and he soon became the revolutionary figurehead for Kenya's disenchanted youth. Tony, however, hated Phil Collins and told Steve to turn it down. "Do you mind if I play my greatest hits of Dave Essex instead?" asked Steve. Tony didn't reply and simply handed over a cassette. Stev, struck with fear, put the tape on...."why do birds suddenly appear when you're near..." blasted from the tape player. Everyone was happy. The birds were singing, Steve was smiling, Tony was in pensive mode, Dez was blasting another pipe up and Barrington was onto his 52nd fag of the day. He hoped to cane his Duty Free by Thursday.
As they neared the tribe of Susan Susans the Professor began to sweat hard, so much so that the cab began to fill with his salty perspiration and peoples shoes started to get seriously damp. To save themselves, the lads all bailed out through the front passenger window, but it was too late for cabman Steve and his brown cat-skin brogues were completely ruined. Unable to console Steve, they left him vomiting into the glove box and headed off towards the village.

CHAP TAR-FREE: HAVE YOU A SISTER CALLED SUSAN?

After almost, they came across a clearing. Not wanting to startle the Susan tribe they immediately pushed nothing and sung. They really were and they knew it. But without doubt the best was for sure. So they did and no one could even. Barrington had been waiting for this moment for a very long time indeed. He began dancing like he had never danced before. The rest of the gang couldn't stop him and the strange wailing noises he was making were getting louder and louder. When suddenly a member of the Susan tribe jumped out from a nearby hedgerow. This stopped Barrington in his tracks(uit bottoms). They were quickly filled to capacity with lemon Kurd and had Cliponka not been sharp enough to spot the impending violence in Barrington's pants, it could have spelled the end of the boys conquest. "Thank God for sturdy old Fred Perry sportswear" they all cried in unison. Old Clip had only gone and sunk his teeth firmly into Barrington's trackies (which were the only thing separating the rest of the group from Barrington's Plutonium false legs) and drained off the Kurdistan rebellion which was developing. During the greater part of the 19th century, however, no power was in a position to challenge Britain's supremacy at sea. In all the commotion the lads had lost sight of the member of the Susan Susans tribe who had appeared moments earlier. Shit, this was their key to the magic twig. It was all Barrington's fault, him and his fucking Zulu dance. Little did they realise, but Barrie's dance had struck a chord with the Susan Susans tribeswoman as he had in fact inadvertently begun their tribal mating ritual and his wailing hadn't arf got her juices flowing. There was a deafening moaning coming from the nearby sheep-shearing contest, wool-growers had dominated the country's commercial and political developments and were the secret money behind the coastal pirate strongholds which terrorised the population.
"SSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" said Tone, what's that incredible moaning?
"It's Alex Ferguson" said the Prof., who could recognise those dulcet Scottish tones anywhere.
As they approached the village they saw Alex strapped to a sacrificial rack. The tribeswomen were tying little yellow ribbons into his hair and he didn't like it. The head bitch of Susans was leaping about like a person who is mad, waving the magic twig above her head and screaming "Kaww, kaww!'.
"Its time for the automatic" whispered Des. Neither of the characters they were faced with were key to their quest, so both could be wasted with minimal concern. Without waiting for formal approval from either of the others, Des had clipped in a cartridge and was drilling bullets left, rice and centre. The carnage was complete. Both bodies lay still on the forest floor. During this bullet luncheon something very strange had happened - the magic twig that Head of Susans (Female Division) had been waving had miraculously morphed into a young white boy wearing a Gola shellsuit. The lads were suspended in disbelief - "Cheers for that" the boy muttered. "Who was this young boy in the Gola trackies?" thought Toner.
"He's your long lost brother...ah...ah...Hugh" the village witch doc bellowed.
"What" thought Tones "I never said anything out aloud"
"I KNOW" shouted the witch doctor.
"That is truly amazing...you red my mind...what!.....my brother....long lost......goodness me".
The Gola clad child ran over to Tone demanding gum drops and some new sweatbands. Tone was overcome with emotion, so much so that he nearly felt like bleeding.
"What is your name child? How are you my brother? I never knew that I had a bro"
The Gola kid stood there motionless. "When I was a youth...me, you and mother were picnicking on the bitch when suddenly a tall eagle named Barry swooped down and carried me away in his beak. He was collecting material to build his new nest and stuffed me in with the twigs and leaves which made up part of its wall. The twigs accepted me as one of their own, raising me like a son and teaching me their wood-like ways. By my 18th birthday, most of my human characteristics had faded and I was as near as damn it a twig - and proud of it too! But it was time for me to leave the nest (get it, boom boom!) and search for my real family. All the twigs cried and begged me not to leave but I had to do it. So with knee-pads and helmet in place I jumped from the nest and was carried away by a gust of wind.�
Not particularly interested in the fact that he had a brother, but impressed by the magnitude of his shellsuit, Tones agreed to find him a space in his rucksack. He didn't even bother asking his name and from now on this poor homeless child was simply branded "G-Quick".
It had been a long day....the sun was setting and darkness had began to Phil the sky. Des had recently assumed the power to create fire on command, and quickly rustled up a little beauty. G-Quick was tasked with tent building, Barrington broke out the guitar, and in no time at all a traditional "cowboy-style" fireside sing-song ensued. They sang the top chart hit "What you gonna do with a chimney on her" and Des strummed out the toptastic tune on his tuba. They were singing away till sun rise and before Des could count to one the rest of the crew were kippax. They were all woken by the blaring son and the sounds of eagles clucking. Or were they vultures. Hell - Who knows?

CHAPTER FORE: ANYONE FOR GOLF!

As Tony got up and prepared himself for another day of adventuring he felt a large smack in the face, which, at the time in the morning, felt like a smack in the face. Standing, or should I say towering above him, were his three compatriots, all darking him to the max.
"You must come with us; or in your pants" said Barrington in a menacing, yet menacing voice. But these were his mafes, or were they? It seemed as if they had been zombiefied, or had their brains washed. Each of their eyes were made up of thousands of colours within colours which was not good. Suddenly, there was a flash of lighting equipment, and none other than John Suchet appeared, political correspondent for the BBC, dressed in what the Professor liked to call professional no-no's.
Tony ran for his live, which at the time seemed like the only life he had....perhaps it was...you tell me. He ran in vain though, as after exactly 4 seconds, he was caught and rendered helpless by another addition to this party of doom: Phil Blatch (some'ow). Phil laughed in Tony�s face so loudly that if there had been buildings around they would have shaken. He punched Tones on top of his head, then started boozing hard and shouting "fuck me, fuck me!". At this point Tones officially blacked out and did not awaken for quite some time.
When Tones finally employed consciousness again he found himself in a cave the size of massive. A booming voice laughed. "I am Norm Sayin', King of the Tights". Tones had heard of the Tights, and what he had heard about them was actually a'ight. "So I hear you is after de Poonana?" said Norm. Could he mean the run down club that he and his fellows used to go to in Croykev? "I 'ear you is after the Susan Susans, norm sayin'?" said Norm Sayin'.
"Er, well me thought me found them, but it turn out me found me long lost brother." Tones thought it best to speak in the tongue of Tights, as this is what Desmond had told him he should do if ever he came across Tights in Africa.
"Well, let me tell you one ting now, they is all outta here, dead. Everyone 'as kill dem. We as Tights are s'posed to protect dem, and we see dat you finish off de last of it. So now, me 'as to finish off you...."
Tones was so scared he asked what they had done to his comrades. "Me 'as cast the spell of Mack Daddy on dem. The only way that the spell can be broken is to find the water from the stream of Stabmeupgoodman, located on the furthest hill, west of the Best. You need to get dis, bring it back, come rewind and chuck it on their disnics until they swell up and explode. They will then take exactly 10 seconds to grow new dicks and become normal again."
All this talk of dicks was making Tones want to fuck hard, but he knew that he had to escape from the clutches of Norm and his cronies, get the water, get back to the lair of the Tights, destroy the lair of Tights and all that lurk in thy and escaped unscathed. But how could he do this? There was one way, and Tones knew exactly what to do.

CHAP STIR FIVE: ANTONY�S NEW QUEST

Once out of the cave, Tony pulled G-Quick from his ruc-sack. The little lads Gola tracksuit sparkled in the sun and temporarily blinded several tigers and a passing hyena called Stephanie.
�Oh long lost brother G-Quick� said Tone, �You must take me to see your twig friends. Once there, we will raise a mighty army to fight the evil Norm Sayin� and get my beloved friends back. I�m sure that their course bark and resinous sap will more than a match for him and his Mack Daddy spells�.
G-Quick was well quick to agree to a battle - he assured the gang that the twigs would be well up for fighting. He told them a story from his youth, well back in the Dave when he was munch younger. G and the rest of the twiglets (a young twig) were once waiting for a tree to grow when these passing branches started on them calling them stick insects, among other insults! The twiglets kicked off hard stylee snapping the opposing branches into a thousand bits. This madness worried Tony - He wanted to get rid of G-Quick and his incredibly strange twig tales. He did not believe that this could be his brother. He gathered up the troops and legged it - leaving the Gola King on his jackson. "Oh Well" said "I'll go and hook up with my other mates - the Toothbrush collective." Gola king wandered off in a haze of insanity. He was whistling and smiling as he walked oblivious of his own mad ways.
In the scheme of things, if the lads quest could be likened to a pint of Vodka, the lads had not even done a shot, and they certainly weren't pissed yet. They needed to get drinking fast and for this they needed a plan. That night a meeting was organised at the waterhole just outside the village of Susans. Tones put together an agenda, Des took the minutes, and Barrington knocked up some sandwiches.....The agenda was roughly as follows:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DATE: 16.4.99

TOMBS OF GRINSTEAD STEERING COMMITTE - STRATEGIC PLAN

PRESENT: Tones
Desmond Danzibar
Barrington Levy

1. Audit of current situation
2. Setting of clear objectives
3. Plan of action
4. Sandwiches & "sing along" with Barring Levy
5. Question and Answers session
6. Cigarette smoking competition

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tones was essentially the chairperson and kicked off the proceedings.
"Right everyone; god knows what's happened to the Professor or that Norm Sayin' character, and why your not all zombies anymore, but lets not dwell on irrelevant details. The cucumber sandwiches are rockin' and my pencil is as sharp as a woodpecker�s pecker. Barrington; how do you propose to find these fucking tombs and also please remind me why we are trying to find them? Pass the vodka Des - don't minute that bit".
"I propose we study the fossil a little bit closer...Where is it Tone?" Tony pulled out the famous ruck-sack and had a jolly good rummage through, but to no avail. "Where in hells bells did I put her?" He suddenly remembered that it was tucked away safely in his sock. He pulled it out and the crew gathered round for a closer inspection.
Using Barringtons gieger counter the team worked out that the fart dated back to circa 3000 BC, and had been dropped by a washer woman from Cambridge during a passionate love making session in a bath. Hints of celery could be traced in her diet, but the team concluded that the traces were too weak to draw a definitive conclusion. "Okay" exclaimed Tones, "we've got an idea who dropped it and how. This could be key to our gaining entrance to the Tomb. All we need to do now is lay down some clear objectives...I propose the following: ONE, find our way to the tomb. TWO, try to unlock the tombs secrets and gain entrance. THREE get some treasure on the go, and FOUR cruise home and spend wild bucks on Farahs and G Strings". Everyone agreed and clapped backwards. "Next lets put together some strategies on how we are going to do it"....
And hell how they planned - Diagrams, maps, charts (pye, bar and graph), OHP slides, Powerpoint presentations, working models to scale; they were uncontrollable. After several days of intense research and investigation the lads were all suffering from big bang headaches and maximum eye strain but had finally reached their conclusion.
"Right," said Tony, " it's all agreed then: ONE, find our way to the tomb. TWO, try to unlock the tombs secrets and gain entrance. THREE get some treasure on the go, and FOUR cruise home and spend wild bucks on Farahs but not G-Strings as they can chafe quite severely during the hot summer months and a good pair of Y-fronts really would be the more sensible option".
Just then, Cliponkas came bounding through the hedgerow with a note in his mouth giving directions to the tomb. "What a stroke of fucking lucks!" shouted Des. "It�s only round the corner, come on lads let's roll".
They ran to the tomb and these boys were excited, after all they had been through alot. Tony was also happy cos he ain't seen Cliponka for a long while. They arrived at the to be confronted by a guard - "My name is Slim Shady - I guard the secret to the tomb and the only way that you bastards can gain n-trance to these goddamn tombs"
Instantaneously Des pulled out the automatic and clenched the trigger for a full 45 seconds, unleashing an entire clip in one go. Slim hit the deck like a pack of starni, and as the rock dust settled from the tomb wall, it transpired that not only had Des unquestionably ended Slims life, but he had also drilled his name into the tomb wall with Bullets. A thirty second silence prevailed as the three stood, shaking their heads in awe. Barrington eventually broke the silence with a nervous giggling whisper, "shit man....that was ruff".
With the entrance to the tomb now clear, the three lads strolled in whistling the theme to the A-Team. The scene which greeted them inside was beyond Brother Beyond. Lying on a bed of nails was Michael Parkinson flicking peanuts into the mouth of that bloke who used to be in Tiswas with the tash and a spitting puppet. All around, small bears were practising motorcycle stunts and the walls were festooned with posters of the Minogue sisters. Parky was a real Kylie fan but a faction within the bear contingent were adamant Danni supports. Heated arguments would often break out and on occasions clenched fists were raised. In the far corner, above a large oil fire, Professor Stockameeny was being spit roasted by Wolf from the Gladiators whilst Sue Pollard was preparing a fine selection of vegetables and garnishes. Next to Sue were a group of biker choir boys who were all feverishly banging acid to the tune of 8 a minute - they were no trouble though so she didn't complain. Classic show tunes from the likes of Lionel Bart and Leonard Bernstein were being pumped from a small Kenwood getto blaster and a John Michele Jar style light show was being put on by a mouse, ably assisted by the cast of Biker Grove. Tones, Des and Baz stood clapping for a whole five minutes and Cliponka was barking like a maniac dog. The barking scared Parky - he was whimpering like a lost boy at the zoo. Tone noticed that Parky was holding a scroll - perhaps this held some clues to the secrets of the tomb. Tone approached Parky - but he hid behind Sue Pollard in fear. Sue shouted in true hi-de-hi northerner style "Michael has lost his tongue that�s why he's living in this here cave with me...leave him alone you poof"
"But you don't understand" exclaimed Tony "I have here a very important object" On cue Tone reached for the fossil from one of his many pockets - Sue thought he was going for his gun and whipped out her pea shooter. Now it was Tone who was cowering like a bitch.
Des reacted in his characteristically speedy manner, and erected a small artillery of anti tank guns and land-to-air missiles in well under 15 seconds.....I immediately jumped into the turret of the anti tank gun and put on my helmet - ready to unleash my load all over Pollards tits. Tones grabbed my G-String and said "Don't do it Dan. Look....Sue has admitted defeat". Parky was limping towards Tone offering him the scroll saying "you boys really are aren't you". I then tried to clap faster than anyone has clapped before, but Barrington rightly pointed out that it was impossible to prove that nobody had clapped faster, so I stopped, happy in the knowledge that even though I may or may not have clapped the fastest, I had still clapped very very fast.
Although everyone was mightily impressed by his clapping prowess, I think it was one of the stunt bears who first pointed out that Daniel Cornelius should not actually be in this story.
"He's not one of us!" screamed the Biker Grove massive; Wolf flexed his pecs and the special effects mouse nodded in agreement. With his head hung in shame, Parky and Pollards escorted Daggers out of the cave and returned him to his computer console on the 7th floor of Philips' Consumer Electronics headquarters in Croydon. His adventure over, Daggers returned to regular work, immediately pissing in a waste bin and swearing at three high level managers. Tones could not apologise enough for their faux par and tried to smooth things over with a wink and a smile. This worked like a treat and the whole crew sat down in a big circle to take a butchers at Parky's scroll.

CHAPTERS 6 & 7: SAUSAGE SCROLLS

The scroll revealed many. But Tone couldn't read or write and had to get Barrington to describe its contents. Barrington paraphrased the contents of the scroll very nicely indeed. He had basically described what the contents said. There were clues about the tombs among other things. Other revelations revealed included the whereabouts of Lord Lucan, Who Killed Biggie Smalls and the reason behind the murder of tupacs shakur, get it. One of the bears was playing the doing-the-same-game behind Barringtons back, and this injected some much needed fun into the proceedings, for Barrington had now hit a difficult patch of decoding and was deep in calculations. His head was rocking back and fore and his mouth was firing off randoom statistical wheeze. Then suddenly he froze - "I've got it" he screamed. Me and Rupert covered our ears.
Slowly but slowly, Baz unveiled the story of the tomb and its strange inexplicable link with the fossilised caveman's fart, a link which was both strange and inexplicable. It certainly was a story and because of this everyone listened. Several listeners jotted down notes for revision purposes at a later date, but they were fools. This was the stuff of magic and magic can't be learnt, it must be earned. Tones knew this and felt it too. At this point both David Copperfield and Paul Daniels appeared to argue this point - after hours of dispute a viscous battle ensued between the two differing magicians - Tones and the boys watched comparing the scene to the old Roman Gladiator days. Des pulled out the automatic and killed them both, as Barrington cleared his throat and started to explain the story of the tomb and its strange inexplicable link with the fossilised caveman's fart. The gist of the story was as follows:

Once upon a time, young Tony was on the beach when he found what looked like a seashell......

Our three explorers (plus the Professor who had by now managed to extricate himself from the roasting spit) froze with terror and stayed very still with fear. Could it be that they were caught up in some freakin' fucked-up time loop story or wok!?! Cliponkas exploded.
The professor announced how his complex litmus tests revealed that the fossil dated back to 20000 bee sea. The boys stood there open mouthed in shock - a passing bug even flew into Barringtons throat which caused him to cough like a cunt. Tone trembled in excitement. "This fossil must be worth bucks, we need to get this mother valued - fuck this tomb secret crap - I'm off to New York to see my buddy Mike Maloons - the one with the Deaf Tones - He�s a top expert in this field - Are you boys in or what?" They all looked rather puzzled but they seemed to be well up for some new style action - "anything to get away from this African heat goddamit" shouted Barrington - "lets Roll" said Tone and within a blink of an eye the boys were off to the airport.
The lads were all knocked unconscious by a policeman in the airport and woke up in New York. When I heard the lads were making the NY reach, I rung Tones on his mobile and gave him Joel�s address. The lads popped in for a cup of biscuits and to hear Joel give a seamless presentation on Soya. Barrington was captivated by Joel�s voice and immediately put forward a marriage proposal. Joel accepted, believing Barrington to be an ideal husband, and followed the troops on the next part of their quest(ion of sport) - to try and sell the fossil to the ugly rich in the seedy bars of Manhattan. Good.

CHAPTER HATE: NEW YORKE BAR

(Cue soft sax music) It was Thursday afternoon and raining hard. Clouds hung across the New York skyline, high-rise buildings piercing into them like big tall things through cotton candy. Mike Maloons stepped out of his '63 Cadilac and hurried into the Pink Pussycat. Ordering a large scotch on the rockets, he thought about the case that had been buggin' him for the past four days. How could Ms Peters have known about the inheritance before killing Josh in the stables with her knicker pistol?
"Fuck off Maloons!" shouted Tones as the four lads steamed into the bar. "I've told you about this before, your not a fuckin P.I. so stop pissing about. Get uz four large tequilas and a double Tia Maria for Joel." Mike ordered the drinks and they took a corner table to start talking business.
"So Maloons," asked the Prof, "what's the word on the street about where we can off load some serious fart fossils?"
Maloons had been drinking hard time - he told the boys about his most recent case - totally ignoring the Professors question.
"Hey there boyz - I've been working for this mad crazy bastard." He interrupted himself and started banging on about his theories "when a cat is dropped it always lands on its feet and when toast is dropped, it always lands with the buttered side down. Therefore I propose to strap buttered toast to the cat�s back. When dropped, the two will hover, spinning inches above the ground probably into eternity. I reckon a buttered cat array could replace pneumatic tyres on cars and trucks, and giant buttered cat arrays could easily allow a high speed monorail link from here in New York to Chicago - the windy city..." The boys held there noses trying not to giggle. Being a native New Yorker, Joel had heard these styles before. He was not impressed and by now was pretty fired up on his Tia Maria.
"Yo yo, what da fuck!" he shouted. "You and your crazy-assed cat buttered toast shit. If you don't come with some answers soon eye is gonna shoot your fuckin balls off!"
Maloons froze; literally. The lads had to spend several hours thawing him out with an assortment of hair dryers, ice-picks and bees wax candles. When he finally came round everyone started laughing, just like at the end of the 80's hit TV show 'Heart to Heart'. Tones was the first to recover from the hilarities and used the last of his Brut 33 to bring the crowd back to their senses.
Just then Terry Yourfriends (aka Tel) walked in. For those of you that don't already know, Tel is a big noise on the NY crime scene, and his views hold clout. If there was something going on then Tel Yourfriends knew about it, and if Tel didn't know about it wasn't worth knowing. Tel was well respected down at the Pink Pussy Cat. He had his own ouija board complex in one of the corners, and was always surrounded by prostitutes. One thing was becoming clear, if the lads stood a chance of selling this FCF they would almost certainly have to involve Tel Yourfriends.
Just then, in walked Justin Then, Maloons' Police contact. He was a corrupt man with big big hair and a permanent erection. This was the man who could answer Tony�s questions - in the strongest Brooklyn accent he said "Tel, there's been a fuckin moider on East 52nd and 12th - Have youz heard the woid on the stroieet". The boys were keen to see a murder scene and begged Tel, Joel and Justin to have a blast on it. "No you limey boistards it happened last weeeek" said Justin.
�Maybe you can 'elp us with this fossil" asked Tony, "has Maloons told you about it?" Maloons looked on edge and Justin was masturbating over a nearby prozzer.
Just about then Trevor, Tels friend walked in and said "hey don't you know that playing with these snakes is a sin". He grabbed him by the shirt and walked him right out the door and said "I don't wanna see you playing with these lowlifes no more. Now come along we have a party to attend with some real mature women and some more of our friends".
With all these comings and goings Tones head was starting to spin like a bastard. Holding his automatic up to Justin's muslim temple he calmly demanded "take us to the nearest god damn fossil dealer or else". Joel was very excited by this sudden turn of events and started jumping up and down on the spot. Justin's predicament was causing him to sweat quite hard which began to make the floor rather slippery. Maloons took the opportunity to pull off one hell of a moonwalk and everyone cheered. With the dance floor antics over, Juz tin lead them out of the bar and headed towards Chinatown.
He took them to a nearby chonger called 1997 - this was a popular Triad hangout. When the boys walked in everyone was darking them hardcore (yaknawhatimean)- Barrington wasn't threatened, he had been in this situation before - as he had spent some time in the Vietnam war. He was a POW in Cambodia and knew how to make these boys laugh. Before he could do anything the whole restaurant and all those who were in it bowed down - treating Barrington like some God. Tones couldn't understand why - until he realised Barrington was carrying the fossil. The chongers were chanting some nonsense. Tones asked Barrington to translate......
"I think it is something like - "I yield to no one in my admiration for John Simpson. His integrity and courage. But I feel considerable unease at his present assignment. We came across each other several years ago when a magazine to which we had independently submitted short stories sent them all back to me. As someone who lived in London throughout the last war, I remembered thousands of civilians who were killed on purpose, and I now know for a fact that all gangsters have to show off, make their little displays of tense things, and that�s the worst thing you can do. Even then. Eventually you draw enough attention to your Aran rang and the fucking fuckers fuck you over like fuck. FUCKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Their leader, Champion Charlie, shuffled to the front of the group. His hair was a bush of flaxen gold and upon his shoulders sat two small gnomes called Ricky and Sue. Pink smoke bellowed from his ears and his eyes were. He also had one leg of his tracksuit bottoms rolled up just bellow the knee, street style. All the other Chongers stopped their chanting ready for him to lay down some lyrics. Tony realised that there was far too many characters being introduced in such a short space of time and had to go outside to get some fresh air. In the background the chanting continued - but Tone was only interested in looking at the New York skyline.
At this point Streetstyle Sue pulled up in a new Ferrari 360 with a few of herf rends....Wildstyle Barbra, Bigtights Len and Rongton Ron. They were chatting about the new "Toys Art Garfunkle" that Tiggy Legbourke had opened down in Crenshaw Heights. Tones was interested, but he smelt, so he was too embarrassed to talk. "Hate owns" shouted Len "want a sip on my pecker of the wood variety?"...Tones was amoands how Len knew his name, but took a fat suck on his pecker nonetheless. "Want to buy a digital camera Tones?" shouted Ron. Tones went and had butchers, and agreed to pay the 300% asking price - a real snip considering it retails at ~67#. Tones fucking legged back inside, and proclaimed his purchase. Barrington and Des agreed to pose for the first picture (a copy of which is attached below).

There was little or no doubt that Tones had undoubtedly struck a fine deal for this nifty little camera. The chongers all cheered and Champion Charlie broke out some of his special human beatboxing just for the occasion. Dez and Baz slid around on the floor like gays, trying in vain to attempt some breakdance moves, while the Professor locked arms with a gangster and fought him with a knife (just like in Michael Jackson's Beat It video). Maloons and Justin took the opportunity to try and sneak out the back door but tones caught 'em on camera and dragged them the back, kicking and screaming like big girls. By now, Champion Charlie was keen to do some business and got out his abacus and counting hat ready to do some business which he was keen to do.
"I ear you got some fossil bizness y'all wanna do" Naive tone pulled out the fossil and within the blink of an eye gangsta Charlie and his boyz had swiped the fossil and vroomed of into the New York night. tone screamed like a bitch. A new mission was on to find the valuable fossil - many obstacles were ahead of the boys. Where would they start?
(((Rue / Jim - I have tried thinking about the next bit, but I am completely stuck. I don't know New York at all, and hence I haven't got a clue where I'm going. I certainly don't want to get the lads lost. Jim - would you mind doing the next bit, and I'll join again after Rue? I'd feel a lot more comfortable...)))

CHAPTER NINE: HOW SQUARE IS DAN, HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW HIS WAY AROUND NEW YORK!

After the lads had severely beaten Tonips for dragging them half the way round the world on some crazy-assed mission only to loose the fucking fossil, they strolled up towards Time Square, popped into Maceys to pick up some Calvin Klines then headed back to the Central Reserve Bank, stopping off on the way for a cup of coffee and a sticky bun in Greenwich Village. After scaling both of the twin towers they surfed over the Hudson (Pepsi Max - Live Life to the Max!) and rolled into Brooklyn, hot on the fossil trail.
As they were cruising through Brooklips they were getting darked hard style by every homie on every street corner. Tunes were blasting out from a nearby jeep and gangstas were playing dice on the corner of Stuveysant and 3rd. This area was known to Tones because his old friend Bigups used to deal from this spot. The last time Tone had been to Brooklyn was for Bigups funeral. He was killed by a rival gaylord over some territorial beef - a nine to the dome they say (fat beats for my rhyme). Tones twitched out of his flashback session and really started to concentrate on the mission at hand. Maloons and Justin took the gang to meet with an Underworld contact of theirs by a tree, under a bridge, in a phone box, with a pink carnation. He was born slippery and played them some mental techno beats on his walkman, cupping the earphones in his hands to try and make it sound louder. Then he gave them some leads - jump, dog, sales and extension - but these were all useless. Tones realised that Maloons and Justin were getting them nowhere and so the lads performed a quick sacrificial execution dedicated to Page 3 stunner Jo Guest. With two less members in their team, the story was already starting to feel alot more manageable. The boys breeved a sigh of hand relief and headed off trying to find more bloody clues. Tones called a roll call just to check who was there, who was dead and who was still on a wheely chair with no arms or legs. All present - Barrington, Professor and a miraculous return of bloody Cliponka. The mutant dog was wagging his tail like a heat on bitch - all the same Tone was pleased to see him again and feed him a series of dog biscuits - including some - wait for it - choc drops - yeah you heard right.
Now I guess some of you are wondering what on earth has happened to Dez Danzibar, the original crackpipe kid. It's a little known fact that
Desmond is dead keen on balsa wood modelling and over the past few years has crafted a superb collection of toy World War One Sopworth Camels. However, this has fuck all to do with Dez's disappearance as he had simply snagged his chinos on an aerial at the top of one of the twin towers. Left behind on his own, he'd taken a quick detour to Staten Island and while there was caught whacking off behind the bike sheds by one of the security guards. He'll probably be back in a couple of chapters. Back with Tone and the boyz 'n' the hood, some frantic clue hunting was going on - it was like an episode of Fun House with Pat Sharp. "It's in the cupboard, it's in the cupboard. No, no, it's under the stairs!"
"What on earth are you talking about" yelled Tones - "I didn't say nothing" replied Barrington - "me neither" said the wacky Prof. "Oh well, lets get back to the reality here boys - this is new York." Tony seemed excited - "How about this for a plan - lets forget about tracing the fossil for one hot minute.... come on guys we is in NY.... lets have a few laughs and then properly sort it. How doth that sound boyos?" "HUUURAH" - they replied so off the way for a night of pure madness in NY. Just the trick to clear their heads. First stop was a nearby racing track.
Once inside, they each highjacked a car and started screaming round the track, oblivious to the fact that the start flag had not even been waved. The crowd cheered like bastards and Jerry Worchowski, the famous NBC sportscaster, proclaimed that this was the best god damn race he'd ever seen. Tones was in a 1953 Mustang with nitrogliscerine burst modification that he used almost constantly; the Prof had a tank and stood up in the turret giving a Hitler salute as he rattled round the course; Barrington drove a Rover 400 with walnut dash and optional cup holder; and Cliponkas had a Ford KA - he felt like a right cunt! Within a few minutes both the crowd and race officials began to realise the magnitude and sheer genius of the spectacle before them. The planned race was put on an indefinite hold, and the track was fully cleared to let the newcomers do their shit.....Each driver opted for a particular stance - TONES was concentrating on speed. He was topping 400 mph by lap 2, and was generating so much G-force, that the shell of the car was folding in and forming around him like a shirt. BARRINGTON had locked the accelerator down, and was clambering all over the outside of the car (not doing anything particular). PROF set the tank turret to auto-swivel and clambered to the end of the canon where he sat crosslegged and nodded his head, and KIBLONGARS had found a way into the engine, and was rotating meals-for-two on the fan belt. He was generating and was averaging about three rotations per maxamillion. As Tones was overlapping Barrington for the sixteenth time he managed to ram him hard. Baz laughed like a monkey and continued to travel around his vehicle. He found his way to the roof of the automobile where he developed an incredible stunt. He had grabbed his trusty straight jacket out of the boot (he kept this to remind him of the golden olden days - stop the voices, please stop them mother...) and dressed himself amongst it - straps and all. Within the space of a couple he managed to escape from it while immersed in a tank of red wine - which he had earlier wielded to the Rover 400. He had developed this skill whilst at the institution. It came in quite handy back then, especially when they were allowed out for the day. But we can't go into that for legal reasons - therefore back to the race track. Before you could say "Colemans Hatch" the race was over and it was time for the boys to move on to some other jollities. Next stop was the Guinness Book Of Records Museum, just over the Brooklyn Bridge. The Professor was excited because his in-bread cousin, Keenanu Leaves, was the usher. It was his job to collect the tickets for the visitors. Prof reckoned he could blag a couple of freebies. They all loaded into the tank and headed for the museum. They drove through the city, in their tank, but no one seemed to notice them. Everyone was just getting on with their lives - far too busy to notice a huge tank packed full of freaks.

Unaware of the impending wall, Prof Sockameeny drove the tank straight through the front of the museum. Norris McWorter sprinted out from an underground basement shouting "its a new world record and its the best yet in the world ever by about three times!" - the lads just ignored him. No one cared, nobody ever did. Norris new every fuckin record in the book but nobody ever put him on the spot like they used to. He longed to hear Roy Castle's funky trumpet playing again and would often pray really really hard for this to happen. However, Norris wanked far too much for his own good and the baby Jesus had no other option but to refuse him his wish. The tank crash had made a right mess of the place and Tones could hear The Prof's cousin Keenanu rustling about under some of the rubble. "Don't let the building fall below 50kph!" cried Keenanu, "there's a bomb I tell you, a bomb, a BOMB!". A large breeze block had hit him clean on the forehead and sent him spinning off on one of his acting flashbacks. The Professor knew what to do. Like light-night-ning the Prof pulled out his syringe of propylene and whacked it into Keeanu's jaw. Slightly ruffled, but sane once more, Keeanu whispered "Cheers for that Profftitute, I was loosing it bigtights". The lads were taken on a guided tour, and saw many things, which had never been seen by so many pricks before. Tones broke out the Digital Camera, and snapped a picture of Keeanu and his wife, standing next to the worlds tallest man (photo attached). Some of the other marvels on show included an apple, two dead Ringworts from Mumble Sands, and thin mice.
This particular stall was cared for by Pancho "The Bull" Grubbins (photo also attached - oh yes). He was sacked from his last job because of his incredibly large head. He was happy at the museum though and his knowledge of obscure items got Tones thinking. Perhaps he could tell him some info about the fossil. Even though it was their day off - he couldn't resist a little aside - without the boys seeing - he asked Pancho but to no avail. Pancho was a deaf mute - So Tones wrote down his question but Panch was also blind - so he knocked it on the head. They continued wandering through the museum - looking at exhibits such as the Smallest balls in the world, the first talking human and the man who held a woman�s breast for 42 years. It was at this point that Tones was approached by a very strange character indeed - known as Little Beaver. Tones was so infatuated with this little bastard that he had to get a snap in with the old digital - he duly did (photo attached, quite a good one actually Dan) and Beaves even obliged him with the best fuckin pose he could muster up (bloody showoff).

JABSTAR 10: DANCING QUEENS

Although Tony and the gang had made some firm new friends (and some of their new friends quite firm!), the lads soon tired of these freaks and yearned for some fast birds and big booze! Outside the museum they met up with Joel who had mysteriously gone missing for a few chapters but was now back on the gasoline. They strolled into a nearby nightclub called the Flaming Pushbuggy ready for some action. At the bar, Joel hit the Tia-Maria's hard while the others furiously sipped away on half pints of lager top. Tones constructed a large pyramid out of bar stools and sat at the top scouting for girls, holding his hand above his eyes to shield them from the severe strobe effects; much like a sailor would do atop the mast of his ship - not one of those gay sailors though, a big butch burley sailor with tattoos and shit. Cliponkas had slipped into a turquoise catsuit and the professor was trying to teach him how to smoke fags. "Make it glow red, you fucking gimp!" he screamed in desperation, but the conker that Cliponkas has stuck in his throat was preventing him from inhaling. Barrington thought it was about time for a dance and headed into the dancefloor holding his bollocks with both hands. He turned his back to the dancefloor, held his breath, and then blasted a superb 25mph moonwalk right through the middle, to the DJ bots. "DJ Pondy Wheels" was making the beat provisions on the wheels of love. Barrington pecked his nose over the bots, and shouted "tell me what this is, is what I reckon you should do", "its Paeinarro by the Pet Shop Boys" replied Pondy, "thanks" replied Barrington quietly. This conversation had come to a very strange and abrupt end - both Pondy and Barrington had completely lost their train of thought and were panicking heavily. In the meanwhile the Prof, Joel and Tones had formed a circle and were flirting heavily with Pondy's sister - Ronda Wheels. She was a very attractive lady and Tones was getting big time excited. His pants were throbbing and he was ready to pounce. He busted out a windmill and a top heavy sumo roll - she was impressed and offered to buy him some fags - but Tone didn't smoke so he settled for a heavy spanking session in the Ladies lavs. She was dirty and he knew it. After they had both cleaned up he thanked her with a $20 tip and went to rejoin the boys on the dancefloor. To celebrate he bought them all a drink. Barrington had a Bacardi and Tomato juice, The professor had his favourite cocktail - A Depot Downer - and the rest of them settled for a trusty pint of Kaliber.
Out of nowhere, Des Danzibar burst through the club doors with a feather in his cap and his arms round three of the finest looking bitches you've ever seen (Dez had very long arms - something that girls found quite irresistible). Tones felt there was something not quite right about these broads but couldn't quite put his finger on it. So he put his fingers on them instead. "You little beauties!" he chuckled as he fondled their teeth and snapped their bra straps. Now, as I mentioned before, these three girls were of significant beauty - one was blond, one a brunette and one had no hair at all, not even pubic! The lads soon stole them away from Dez with bribes of cheesy Wotsits and Worthers Originals and he was left standing by the bar, cold and lonely like a lost child at the zoo. As soon as Barrington caught sight, he instantly moonwalked to the DJ bots (this time post 50mph), and slapped Pondy Wheels in the knackers. Pondy Wheels looked up... "Spandal Ballet" Barrington instructed and glided back off to Tones andy tree fitch birgs. Appreciating the magnitude of their general stance, the bald bird commented "You lads are more or less, aren't you". "What are your names?" asked the blonde.
"Fridge, Magnet and Stickers" lied Barrington. Prof and Tones had to think of really dark shit to try and hold back the giggles, and were really struggling - luckily Des butted in and broke the silence - "What about yourshelves?".
The fittest of the three was called Waz Metops - she was joined by her two heinous pals - Sarah Seethrough and Julie Threeballs. This collective of smashers were known throughout town with their pounds strapped down. I mean these hags are big time easy draws - and the boys were onto a good thing.
"Good things come in small packages" proclaimed Tones to the girls, "but not my bollocks - they're fuckin' huge!". This was a real classic of a chat'em-up line and Tones really knew it. Sarah Seethrough fell instantly in love with him and they sprinted off to find a room for 3 dollars an hour. Joel fell over due to obscene pissednessness and Tia-Maria could be seen dripping out of his left nostril. Baz was going great gunz with Waz Metops and already had her half undressed without her even knowing. She just didn't realise - the evil whore! Joel, Dez and the Professor started arguing over Threeballs (the bald one with no hair, not even pubic!) but she insisted she had more than enough for all of 'em and so they had to agree.

CHAPTER ELF-HEAVEN: SHOP SOILED

Only those present know the exact details of what happened that night. One thing was for sure - but I' not sure what it was. Anyway, the story resumes in Central Park with lads sitting on a park bents. Dense hangovers had caused the lads to be mute since their awakening, but Tones was getting his head together, and eventually broke the silence - "okcaveman. what shall we do todavid?"
"Get to work on finding this flipping fossil" said the Prof. As soon as he said that a nearby passerby, what just happened to be near them and passing past, approached them asking what they meant by the fossil. Tone explained the story to this nosy cunt and ended by saying "what�s it got to do with you anyway?"
"well gentlemen I may just be able to help you. You see my great grandfather owns a fossil shop and he explained to me over dinner the other day how a strange crew of fuckers had come into his shop trying to sell this fossil that you talk about..."
"tell us more - oh please please sir" Said tones, near to wetting his pants with excitement. This was the best lead that they had had since their day off. "Come follow me - I'll take you to gramps shop"
So off the boys went on yet another goddamn mission. On arrival at the shop it reminded Tony of the one featured in the smash hit presentation GREMLINS where the crappy inventor geezer purchases the cutesy Mogwai as a present for his son - only for the whole thing to end in disaster when water meets Mogwai. Putting red herrings aside Tone was introduced to gramps. This chap spoke a language that no one had ever heard - "Reto verico mas clon vedinbogo ity von glip tits" he said.
Tones new found friend, Phil Mike Ock, translated for them - "He says hello"
The old man spoke again - "Shoom vico mi coom coom wassk one dicka qulie repo mon hoomie dak dak, opss shit-t?"
Phil - "He says how are you?"
"Fuckin great!" screamed Toner cartridge enthusiastically. "Sup with these fossils". The old man looked scared and confused and hid in his own beard for maximum protection. It took several minutes for Phil to coax him out using a picture of Clint Eastward doing one of his evil stares in The Good-assed, Bad and One Hell of a One. Well good!

Gary Oldman was shaking stevens, and said "Rogglers top". Feel My Cock again operated the translation station - "He says that three characters and a dog rocked up in Ferrari 360 and try to cell me the caveman farse. He didn't buy it because he though it to be fake. They also tried to sell him a digital camera, but he had one which someone called Dan Corns (?) got him cheap from Philips. He recalls them being a strange bunch, and they soon confirmed his suspicions when they got back in the car, and zipped themselves and the car in an old red Ferrari 288 GTO cover before driving off. He took a photo as they were leaving (photo attach� case). He had every right to be suspicious - they looked like a right old pack of skivies. Tones was gut head that the old gentleman had not pur chased the fossil - it would have saved a lot of time and the story would have been over much quicker. All the same the boys left without a clue of what to do next. They stood around, dossing on the street corner - when suddenly the red hooded covered Ferrari legged it past them. A following session ensued forewith tither therefore.
The lads little legs were certainly no match for the Ferrari's throbbing 12 cylinder engine and they soon realised that a faster mode of transport would be required. Skateboards seemed the way forward so they all hopped on. Furious tricks ensued and the Ferrari boys were getting nervous. Some people stopped in the street and pointed, others just hurried for cover. The stakes were high and the consequences could be. Toner loved it and kept whooping like some fat-assed American twat, whipping the air with his hand like a bastard. As they pulled up to the bumper baby of the Fraza, Dez slammed down on the backboard and they flipped 360 straight through the sunroof into the cockpit, tearing the snazzy car cover to shreds. Des folded his arms, nodded (hrrrrr), and said "I is come wiv some bag news for you boyds mang. You boysd is fucked with the wrong crew mang. You is say your prayers mang cause you boyds is finished for sure init". As the Ferrari driver and passengers looked up, the ugly truth prevailed - it was Rongton Ron, Big Tights Len, Wildestyle Barbra and Cliponka..... Tones broke down and was wailing hysterically, Barrington belted cliponka repeatedly with electronic dice, and Proftitute started counting his Rizla in multiples of two. How could they do such a thingers? Especially Clipbricks - he had known the team for 45mm possibly even less...One thing was for shaun curley they would not let Cliponka out of their sight again. "Can you go and get me some more Rizla from that shop the other side of those massive buildings" said Prof. Barrington dealt with the other three by piercing their necks with a snooker cue (Stavros Davis style). The crew was once again reformed, and the crew was once again reformed.
Now that the boys were all back together once again (ie - reformed) They decided that they were just going round in circles and not actually achieving anything - "madness only goes round in circles" (Winston Churchill circa 1645) Tones knew that there was only one thing that he
could do - Internet. He had heard of a site that documents a similar story to theirs - he typed in http://bennyhills.fortunecity.com/kahn/628. He read the document - he found it very amusing - But it was of no help to him, so he switched of his lap top and began to ponder. From there he started on thinking until he ended up being caught up in the thought process. "What the hell is going to happen next" thought Tone "Us boys need a real good kick up the arse to get this mission rolling...nothing is happening" He began to cry like a young child who had been beaten in the playground. Barrington noticed Tone in the corner of his eyes and started sniggering. He thought to himself "Grown men crying....hahahahahaha" He went to comfort Tony - asking him what was wrong? Why cry Tone? and other questions along these lines. White lines ..... running through your mi-a-ind, was a cracking song from some real boys back in the '80's. But Des was still conkfused - "Have we actually got the old foss back or wok?". The whole lot of them had to think very hard indeed and at several moments things got quite shakey. In the end it was concluded that they did have the fossil and really should gets some moves on. Tones strapped the ancient stone to his forehead, miner helmet style, and strutted up and down Broadway givin' it the large. This attracted the interest of a passing big-time Hollywood producer going by the name of ArsewipeMike (the skid magician).
"Hey kids" he said, "I'm a big cheese in the crazy world of film makin' and I sees big things for you boice! Why don't yous ditch this Eastcoat action and come work for me Westside (doing it for the...). The boyz couldn't believe but really new it should be, shouldn't it. They all piled into ArsewipeMike's brown stretch-out limo with bog roll wheels and toilet duck window washers. Arser's chauffeur, teen R'n'B songstress Brandy, stepped on it and the whole car accelerated towards the airport at speed.
By they time they had arrived, they had fully cleaned out the drinks cabinet and Barrington had managed to "half-inch" the TV / Games console from the back panel. They boarded the private jet in true hooligan style, singing abusive songs, threatening runway officials and slinging bottles of Mr Tooze on the floorskin. Once they all settled down and the plane was airborne, ArsewipeMike called them all round for a "stop-cheating" to discuss the various opportunities that would be open to them, and the renumeration packages available. Pot Noodles were served by Susan Perb (Mikes well fist wife), the lights were dimmer switches, and the atmosphere was really quite pencil. After eating their inflight meal, the lads all had a game of shove hapeny and Dez ended up winning through shear bloody cunning. Sue then performed a perb stripper tease for them - Tone got quite hot under his collar and Barrington's samurai smashed several valuable vases. Arsewipes just sat their clapping, holding his head in both hands - Sue was so fist but he knew she was pure slappas. One by one, they all fell asleep, dreaming of the big-time bright-tights Hollywood adventure playground that awaited them.

The plane landed as smoothly could be egg spected. The boys let out a cheer in order to congratulate the pilot on a smashing flight. As they left they were each handed a goodie bag containing condoms, name badges and a jokey pair of false teeth that you wind up and they natter across the table (I think you know the ones I mean - hell you should do by this stage). Baz had already busted these out - but he put a twist on things by putting them in his mouth and pretending he was cold - even though it was very warm in Hollywood - he really is a joker. They were all picked up by another limo - this time the driver was RnB dosser R.Kelly - The boys thought it ironic that he was driving a limo and not a plane. "Why is this ironic you fucker?" - you may be asking. You see it was soulful Kelly that sang about believing he could fly and he was driving you see - driving a car and not a plane - hence he can't really fly. "Isn't it ironic" sang Alanis in the background as she unloaded the baggage section. Tony kept his eye on his bag as he knew that hippy bitch tastic Alanis was renowned in the music fingers for her butter industry. Their bags were packed into the boot very carefully and they headed for their hotel - The Waldorf Salad.

CHAPE WOODS 12 - HOLLY KEEP YER PANTS ON!

Down at the pool side, Des was out sunning himself a good 2 hours before the agreed meeting. By the time the others arrive he had very definitely turned a colour well beyond what many experts would consider healthy. As they waited for Arsewipemike, Barrington stretched a lacky band across the whole length of the pool and chuckled to himself as small children attempting bomb dives were all bounced into orbit. Tones was wearing his special summer slacks, one pair of Dunoppers Greenflash and a mauve Ralph polo shirt - nifty! The outfit attracted the attention of a number of femailers and by the time Arsers arrived, Tones was bathed in sea of bouncing bikini babes. Dez, Baz and the Profster had all left to relieve themselves behind locked doors - they were excitable lads at the best of times and this bevy of luscious lovelies was too much for them to remain uncorked. Tones, however, was lapping it up (not his mafes jiz, just the femail attention) and was flexing both his arms at the same time just in order to impress them further. There really were some beauties pool side.
Arsey Mike shouted to the boys to gather round as it was time to feed them some information. They all huddled together like a group of lost
cattle would if all their family had been slaughtered by the nearby abattoir owner! They were also wet from their recent swimming excursions. Baz was desperate to tell Mike how he had held his breath for over a certain amount of seconds, but Mike wasn't interested, he was dealing with the matter at hand - The Film. "What�s it called - what is it called - please pray tell".
"I'll tell you about it� Mike replied �It really is smash. Its called STRANGE SHAPED, and centres around 3 severely disfigured young men with abusive personalities. It documents their constant feuds with society and describes in some detail the problems they have encountered
trying to fit in".
"Pure genius" whispered Barrington; "Spot on" muttered Tones. Mike continued:
"The story begins with a glimpse of how each of the characters came to be disfunctional. The first is at high school, where we film one of the main characters being beaten around the temple by a 6ft 6th former with an oakwood croquet mallet. Then we zip over to one of the other characters being pushed, head first, into a iron bath of boiling fat, then finally we show the third member having two hair dryers strapped onto his head (one to each eye socket), his arms tied behind his back, and the power being turned on to full blast for 3 hours". The lads were listening carefully, and were nodding in absolute approval. "Nice one" whispered Des.... Mike continued:
"These three migfits bum into each other at one of Delia Smith's acclaimed 'Cooking with Aga's Made Simple' masterclasses and from that day forth vow to live by the skin of their pants and fly in the face of Fanta. Over a number of years they construct costumes out of car seat covers stolen from Nissan Primeras that had been involved in horrific road accidents. Through the processes of photosynthesis and shear luck the costumes are dyed yellow and green with a big capital 'P' on the front. Magic capes extend from their necks and they almost gain the ability to fly..... almost, but sadly not quite. With their plans finally in place they set about putting their planks into action man! - Quite a fuckin story eh?"
The boys could not believe their ears and slapped Mike on the back for well over an hour, resulting in him being hospitalised. During his stay, Mike was fitted with a bionic spine which was something that just a few days earlier he had really not expected. After the op, Tones and the boys went to pick him up from the hospital and took turns to ride him round the car park like a po-go-go stick. Des got the highest with 17.24 meat hers (wind assisted). Tones kept shouting how it was wind assisted and the little chap became very persistent that he could better Des. Tony was very competitive - this trait in his character was evident from an early age. As a child he would time himself at the dinner table, always trying to beat his father�s legendary record of a clean plate within the space of two cats whiskers and in turn his father would beat him - very hard indeed as a matter of fact.
So anyhow, Tones climbed onto springy Arsewipemike and bounced off into the horizon, soon to return and do exactly the same thing. This carried on for a time span of 3 days - back and forth - back and forth - "ABSOLUTE MADNESS!" yelped Des. Tones finally settled down and Mike looked exhausted but he insisted that he had really enjoyed himself. He invited them back to his for tea and informed how filming would start the next day. Off they skipped in anticipation, waiting to see a camera in action and some famous Hollywood superstars.

CHAPTAR TURD TEEN: HERE COMETH BIG TIME MOVIE TONES

By 10am the following day, the lads were standing outside the towering (matthew) gates of Universal Studios. In a bid to impress the directors, the lads had been up early and prepared some angel cakes which Des was carrying in on a tray. Tones wore a blonde wig to avoid being recognised, and Barrington was making sure everyone saw the fake mobile he had strapped to his belt. The gates opened, and the three spat violently as they walked in. A fat naked gentleman drove past on a golf buggy, and Mike dived under the wheels flipping the cart and throwing the man to the concrete floor. Mike followed up with a toe punt to the mans head... "Hey guys meet Paul Kippin." he said, still laying in the boot, "he's going to be your personal trainer". The lads were surprised at this greeting, but welcomed the change of culture. This seemed like a place where anything went, and the lads were going to take full advantage.
First up, Kips trotted the lads down to the gym where they pumped hard iron and lifted some wigs. Once the workout was over they all piled into the sauna where who should they bump into but none other than West Lee Snipers and Pummel Her Andy Sun - yes, the famous actors!!! West Lee gave them some tips on advanced camera technique and doing very loud burps, but few paid attention due to Pummel's high volume tit exposure. Tones started ladling minty water onto the sauna hot rocks in an attempt to create maximum steamage - his plan was to have a good grope while visibility was poor. Pummel, however, caught wind of Tony's scheme and quickly put a stop it by letting off one of the rankest guffs the lads had ever smelt. They had to clap and agree. When everything had died down (including the smell) everyone got back to work. After their sweaty sauna they settled into a relaxing bath, when suddenly Jack Uzi came in to say hi. He said he�d heard about the new project and was very interested in working with Mike and the boys.
"If I do this, do you reckon I could be in your film?" said Jack as he crossed his eyes. There was no doubt the boy had skill, but the lads still
weren't sure.... "Can you do this though?" asked Barrington as he assumed the locust position. "Of course" said Jack, as he whipped out a mirror and reflected it at Barrington. The lads didn't suspect a thing, and Jack was welcomed as an honoury member. Just then, Mike walked in with a naked bird strapped round his waist. "Come on lads, get your Farahs on, its time to meet the crew".
The director was an old trooper called Toothless Len who had worked on countless porno flicks but was now breaking into mainstream cinematography. He showed the lads round the set and introduced them to a few characters. Head of cameras and stuff was Rupert, ably assisted by little breakneck Jim the teaboy. Carl 'Hoggers' Hogarth handled the sound and special FX, while old Daniel Cornelius had been brought in especially to play drums - 'a beat for every occasion!'. Cracking open the beers, they all smoked fags and shared a few jokes.
Mike split up the fun to announce that it was time to film the first scene. Everyone got in the places and "ACTION" was called - everyone just stood there looking at each other with clueless expressions on their faces. Tones started to giggle - holding his nose - trying not to lol (laugh out loud). In turn Baz sniggered, setting off Des, who set off the professor - they couldn't control their giggles and bursted out into fits of laughter. I don't even know what this fucking film is about and nor did tone and his boys - I don't think either myself or tone were listening to Arsey Mikes synopsis. What a laugh
Barrington felt he should make an effort, so he started hitting Des. Des replied with a song about reptiles, and Tones peered through a looking glass, tapping his foot, nodding his head and trying to establish new swear words.... (This is exactly what Mike wanted - the initial stage fright had gone and the lads were now really performing).... With legendary panache, Barrington then turned the palm of his right hand to face the floor, tucked his thumb underneath, brought his four fingers together curling them slightly downwards, and started rocking his hand back and forth (again nodding his head). Tones took the hint and joined him, but added a more pronounced nod. At school, Tony had been a keen member of the Hand/Motion Society where his gestural interpretation skills had been honed to perfection. He let fly with a full blown recreation of the Eiffel Tower purely via the use of his hands, whipping them through the air with venomous precision. Des tried a similar stunt but lacking the necessary training ended up sideswiping Barrington in the legs sending him crashing through 3 cameras and a substantial lighting rig.

"Genius, pure genius!" cried Mike - he knew these boys were but had never imagined it. As the filming continued, Len started slipping back into his old ways, repeatedly getting the zoom lens out and requesting deeper penetration. Paying no notice whatsoever, the boys pulled on their Fila trackies and rolled out the lyno ready for some. Daggers Cornelius mounted the drum kit and let rip with a note perfect rendition of Harold Faltamire's 'Axel F'. Rupert suddenly pulled out possibly the best windmill any one had seen (photo attached now - check out barrington in the blackground) - but all that showing off resulted in a busted thumb - OUCH indeed!
"Cut" shouted shout. The first scene had been laid down nicely, recorded well and taped to a good standard. "Okayssional" shouted Mike. �We�ve got to break out a love scene..." - before he even properly finished his sentence, Barrington had steamed to the front "I'm your fucking man" he cried. But Mike was not instantly convinced, and decided that there would be an audition - the winner chosen on the basis of his genital prowess. Although a number of people entered, there was no contest - Tones won hands down with a seamless display...completely amazed, Mike screamed to the film crew "start rolling, START ROLLING!". This was pure entertainment - Big time Hollywood laughs and Mike fucking well knew it. He was onto a winner.

CHAP TAR FORT KEEN: 2 MONTHS LATER

The premiere. Hollywood. Bright Lights. Big city of dreams. Tones. Barrington. Mike. The Prof. Des. Dressed up to the nines. Dinner Jackets. Red Carpets. Camera flashes. Fame at last. Suddenly out of no where Tones saw Charlie in the crowd - waving the fossil in his hand - in a very mocking way indeed. He really could be a bit of a one, couldn't he. Via a system of Morse code winks, the 4 lads organised a quick plan - Baz and the Prof performed some of their tap routines in front of the paparazzi while Tones slipped round the back to launch a surprise attack; Dez kept lookout. The crowd rawed with delight at the impromptu dance fest and just as Baz completed a tricky double piruet Tones pounced on Champion Charlie, capturing him in one of the best head-locks ever! Old Champs didn't know what'd hit him and reared up like a human bull with Tones hangin on for deer live. Now although this head-lock was of a very high standard, Charlie's frantic bucking was starting to loosen Tony's vice-like grip, gradually reducing it to the equivalent to a homosexual's handshake. Tone was tossed from Charlie's back (like a girl) and flew through the air straight into the path of a passing Parson - mad!
Tones horrific injuries baffled the American doctors who had never yet encountered a human with YSL Jazz for blood and so were forced to return him to the UK. The other lads reluctantly flew back as well, their promising movie carrier tragically cut master swift short. But at least they knew they had and really were.

While Tones recovered in Hosipital, Desmond and Barrington decided that their first port of call was to visit the Bluebell railway in Kent for david out of control. They both got up at 3am and ran the 60mile journey through driving rain in nothing but their gloves. They didn't arrive until 9.30, because dya know what I mean, but at least they didn't have to wait for the playthe to open. They paid �5 in each, though it was only a quid, and didn't even look in the museum, such was their passion to ride on a real steam train. Barringsbury had nicked the camera from Jim Tones and snapped a shot of the stone cold cooler that the boyds rode in firsk time init. As they chugged around the track they whistled with glee - for this was the happiest that they had bean for a longtipes. As they train speeded up the boys started to get giddy with it. They were giggling like young children - Des didn't want to say anything but he was starting to feel a bit sick. He just kept smiling at Baz - trying to style it out. The steam head pulled up to the station and Des breeved a sigh of relief. Baz ran off screaming "where are the toffe apples - where are they - me hungry yahkna. While Baz went off in a food fanatical frienzy, Des thought he would have a stroll round the museum. A wealth of train memorabilia populated the walls and many historical artifacts were displayed, their general theme being that of locomotion - i.e. trains 'n shit. For this was a train Museum!!! After sometime, it was still a train museum and Dez had stolen several things that were all train related. You see Dez was a born thief and was in a Train museum therefore one thing lead to more and soon his pockets were full of locomotive loot. After all, Barrington returned from lunch and slapped Dez out of this madness - He'd never wanted to be in an 80's ska band anyway. Meanwhile, back in his lab coat, the Professor was spanking his monkey to a different beat. 'Monkeon' (it�s name) was a mischievous pet who cut a hefty stance at well over 37 stones. He'd missed old Prof and gotten a little over excited with a tube of toothpaste. Cripes!
Crisps indeed.

Over in Hammersmith Hospital, Tone was recovering at pace and getting a bit naughty with some of the nurses. He'd teamed up wif sum lad in the bed next to him called Bennu W-ton and they were playing pinch arse cricket. This ingenious game had been dreamt up by Bennu during a rather dull episode of GMTV and involved finger pinching nurses bottoms in order to score runs. A good hard pinch was 1 run, a cheek squeeze was a 4, and you were bowled out by a slap in the face. Tones was all out for a pitiful 42 while Bennu was already on 265 for 3 before they'd even stopped for tea! Tones wanted a rematch but Bennu was out for the count - drugged up to his eyeballs. Tones busted out his camera to get a memento of these lovely nurses - You beauty! (This picture shows two of the nurses in the new trauma drapes, which give full fluid protection to the staff including full arm length cover, which aprons do not.) Tones was getting big time bored so he phoned up Des on the mobility - asking them to come and visit. Des described the madness at Steam World - causing Tony to laugh big tights. When all the silliness had died down, Tony and Des got involved in a serious conversation. Tones was worried about the current state of affairs - nothing was getting done. "Right - this is the state of play" said Tones "As we all know the fossil is of prime importance here. I suggest that.....
�Once again I am confused,� interjected Des. �Do we now have the fossil or wok? We successfully retrieved it from those curious Ferrari boys but then (as if by magic) Champo Charlie had it back again at the premiere. Did you rescue it from him before being tossed off?
�Yes for fucks ache!� shouted Tones, �I wouldn�t have been bangin on about it otherwikes. And I stopped wanking years ago thank you very much!�. With that all sorted and everything sorted out they were now ready to decide what to decide to do next after they�d made their decision of what to do... next.
"So then lads - here we sit at a cross roads - what to do next where to go - the options are endless...lets...." stuttered Tone
Suddenly, and also inexplicably, Des' mobile phone exploded, killing him outright so that he fell over onto the floor completely dead. Everyone within earshot began crying, apart from Tones that is who thought that he'd simply lost reception. Back in the professors lab, Monkeon was getting out of control, slapping the roof and walls like a madcap raver at a jungle techno rave. The Prof tried to calm him down by reading an extract from the instruction manual to his Alba TPD762 Hi-Fi Stereo. This did nothing but inflame the impetuous beast and sent him spiralling off in a haze of licorice and barbed wire. Unfortunately, Prof was caught up in the tailwind, tipping him off his feet and giving him a rather nasty sprain to the ankle. Poor old Prof Soc was never the same again and after only a couple of weeks he was forced to move to the Whispering Pines Retirement Home for weird professors with nasty sprains to their ankles.
But what of Barrington, I hear Rue and Dan ask. Ah well.....nobody knows exactly what happened to Barrington, various rumours circulated: He ran away to head up the lighting division down at GMTV - he incurred a brain haemorrhage after a sidney fight with Daz Cornelius in a lonely nightclud - he joined the army kitchen division and chopped carrots at pace.... no bodily nose ring nose, but one thing is for sure, and that was because and things.

CHAPTER 15: BACK 2 DA FU-TAR

Tones suddenly felt very alone, maybe because he bloody well was. All his mafes were either dead, really tired or completely AWOL (like those well nike bomber jackets say). He began reminiscing about the good old gays, before he'd ever stumbled across that blasted fossil - back to the days when he was an up and coming Blue Peter presenter, wiv his own record label and some big-time connections East Coast USA. He used to love this dangerous double life, rushing back and force between BBC Television Centre and the basement record shop from which he ran the label. He would often compare his life to the popular circus act of plate spinning - yes, plate spinning! Come on Tone, lets tell em all about it.
There were so many killer episodes in Tight-arse Tones life, that in order to put them all in context he felt he should start from the tot. He starred at the ceiling, took a big sigh(mon), and stared his great life story....
"At the age of 3 I was snorting talcum powder, and was already well established within East Grinstead and Redhill circles as the see-through Chinaman. One of mine kampf earliest memories, was sticking my toes in the taps while my Mum was filling my bath, and reaching over to the sink taps with a mug and filling the bath up by hand. Both pointless and tricky, this action taught me much about nothing and nothing much about a lot. Another memorable episode was when I caught a bumble bee in my mouth and had to pin it down with my tongue to prevent it from stinging me. During the next year I began dealing at school. My main business was shower caps and sanitary towels, but I could get the harder stuff if people asked for it. I was fast becoming the main man, head poncho and master supreme of the nursery play ground. My rep was really quite something and even my mother thought I was fly! I had all the best shit you could buy in Mothercare. My favourite outfit was my Osh Kosh Dungarees - man I was vell cool. All the other kids tried to be like me and there was this one kid who used to come into class dressed like me - what a fuckin dick. I looked like some sort of traveller. Later it turned out that his rentals were in fact gypsy and that I had been sorely mistaken in presuming this fact. Still never stopped us taking the piss out of the little jippo. One of the great milestones in my schooling career, was when I migrated up to the junior school. I had heard rumours that the lads in Junior school were ruff, so I took no chances. I set up camp in a bush by the school gates the night before the start of term, and collected over 0000 stones in my rucksack. That was the last thing I can remember that morning....apparently as soon as people started turning up, I turned completely psychopathic, convulsing violently, choking on my own tongue, and pelting everyone in sight with stones. No human could have stopped me on their own. The army had to be brought in to bring me down with nerve gas. Although possibly slightly over the top, I'm glad I did it. No one in junior school messed with me from then on in.
My favourite band during them days was Howard Jones. I was mad on him, had all the posters and knew every single funking word to his catchy synth-pop tunes. I wore my hair 'Jones-Style' as I liked to call it - blond and nice and spikey (nik naks). I even invested in a small synthesiser and tried to recreate some of his classics in my bedroom. I was also mad keen on obscure Aussie band The Psychedelic Furs - wow those boys were good. I had none of there records but quite a few of their records on vinyl. I even had some of their records - in fact I had em all - yeah honest. I did.
When it came to clothes I had it down. You would often see me breaking out a pair of clogs, or the all-in-one v-necked Farah catsuit; the leather rucksack always in tow.....yeah they were the dave's. I remember one craze in the summer of 79, when all the clothes I wore were soaking wet. I used to shove all my clothes in a bucket of water before I went to sleep, and break them out, fully dripping, in the morning. Grape daves. My best mafe at school was a character named Bob Saturn who ran the school tuck shop - all he stocked was Fizzbombs! We were bang into our roller skating and would often reinact the routines of Tourville & Dean in the playground. This usually caused severe disruption to the lunchtime kickabout and we soon became fierce rivals wiv the football lads. We would taunt them with our Tourville & Dean banners and throw Mr Men rubbers at their eyes - Ha ha, dem days waz crazy man!
There was a girl in class called Steve who I well fancied for a long tights. She had hair, some eyes and a pair of pairs. We used to tease her about her "fruit pastilles" during swimming class. Despite my youthful outlook on life at the time I realised that she really was quite was. She had the coolest sticker collection and her array of badges was truly fantabulous. It was until the summer of sixty knives that we got our swerve on. It was behind the rec hall and it really was quite obscene. As I reached down to stroke her strokable parps she slapped me round the chops and legged it. What did I do wrong?
It was around this time that we started forming our gang. There was me, bob saturn, matt fences, martin puddle, daniel iron, alex sawdust, sarah landing, and miranda jamgarden. To look at we were a simple, unassuming bunch, but beneath this humble facade, we were an agglomeration of great minds - fresh faced geniuses, brimming with energy and raw humour. Our team of exceptional individuals were soon to be established as THE gang of the school, and we rewrote the history cook books by setting completely new standards of pissing around in class...these are just some of the things we got up to:

1. Turning up for Latin lessons in full Roman Centurion costume
2. Writing all English essays in French (except for the word 'viable')
3. Running, yes running!, across the concourse
4. Properly dancing during hymns at assembly
5. Refusing to play anything other than Wagner at orchestra practice
6. Never cheating on cross-country runs
7. Messing about with a pneumatic drill while teacher was trying to take registration
8. Using the tuck shop to launder Mafia gun money
9. Masturbating in chapel
10. Swimming with sharks
11. Drawing nude birds (i.e. tits, sparrows et al) during art class
12. Climbing up the forbidden stairs to find out they don't actually lead anywhere at all.
13. Growing pubic hair in biology class
14. Selling illegal booze to Mr Gregory
15. Ignoring questions in French oral - just looking out the window holding your chin
16. Smuggling in an endangered species after exeat weekends
17. Cheating in exams using an eye patch, a plaster cast, a calculator, some pencils and a laptop

The list really was endless. It was basically endless. The best laughs were had at dinner time - Foodfights in which people were actually killed were not uncommon. Bob Saturn devised a robot which would re-heat his food for him, and Sarah Landing acted as the human bindust devouring anything from lincolnshire 5's to urine. The amount of laughs we had with sarah was nearly as much as you know what I means. We used to feed her 40 kilos of compost then kick her round the room - football stance. She used to eat anything including this and that, and I tell you what - but not for bit.
The years went by and soon it was my 12th birthday. My mum took us 11 pin bowling. Bob Saturn built another one of his nifty little robots to help out with the scoring but mother disapproved and had it decommissioned and broken up for scrap. We were forced to rely on the pure mental agility of Daniel Iron, man of iron. Sarah Landing was on top form and kept pretending her fingers were stuck in the ball, letting it drag her down the ally into the skittles - yes I know, the old classic, but she did it so well man. Me and Bob refused to wear those two-tone bowling loafers and weren't allowed to play so Al Sawdust kindly offered to bowl blindfold. We sat at the back shouting directions and by the end of the afternoon had him chucking bowling balls straight into the burger-bar. Grave dates!
Then basically I basically um...well you know...ah...um...yeah thats it..." Tones had completely lost his thought train. He had spied a broad who measured up fist out the corner of his shop, and had been side tracked. He pulled himself back together..
"ahmm...sorry about that. Now, where was I, oh yes...yeah that was the year that I joined the scouts with Matt Fences and Martin Puddle. The first camping holiday down in Devon proved to be a camping holiday, which is what we had always expected it to be seeing as that's what it said at the top of the camping holiday info sheet that we'd been given. It was also in Devon so that pretty well wraps things up then doesn't it then. Martin Puddle pissed his pants every night - not surprising really since on the first afternoon we'd force fed him seven urns of tea just in order to win the 'Make As Many Cups Of Tea As You Can Competition' at the local fate and thereby earn out knot tying badges. By the end of the second dave, me and Matt had got all of our badgers and needed to attach extension flaps to our arms in order to fit �em all on. New challenge Anneka's were required and so we just made up new badges like. Some of them what we made up and that were well cool yah. Such as (eg) for example (ie) the badge collectors badge, the Collectors collector badge and there was even a badge awarded for badge awarding. The funniest one was the badgers badge - this was given if you had bothered a badger into giving you a badge. Some of the other laughs that we had at camp really were funny knee. One time Chris Clapeggs was doing his orienteering course and we managed to convince the silly wanka that he really had to. So he did, and we all laughed, including Chris - what a cunt! We awarded him the 'Big CrispHead" badge and gave him a slap round the chops for being so cheeky. He never did that again Ike (and Tina Turner) tell you. Other scrapes that we got up to included hiding in cardboard boxes, opening doors, sellotaping flies, and burning magnesium strips without the use protective goggles. All in all; yeah.

CHAPTER 16: TEXICO CHAIN WHORE MASS HE KERB

I hung rund with dose crew foor a kipula more years, many laughs were had and even quite a few laughs were had. But I saw it as time to move on, to get away, I've got to get away...I wanna fly aaaaway...yeah a hey. My parents who were going through a very messy d...d....dustbin at the time decided to send me away to Texas, where my crazy Uncle lived. He was your archetypal stetson/cowboy boots wearing eastend boy dun good. He told all the family that he was a successful oil baron type and all his mates called him JR (Jonathan Ross). I flew out there with my mum on the Tuesday and it wasn't until I got out there that we were to realise that all wasn't what we had originally thought and that like init. For low and behold, me old Uncle was now a bloody woman! He'd started on the hormones soon after emigrating and had the chop about a year ago. However, not only was he a transsexual, he was also transvestite and gay so he still wore men's clothing and shagged birds. Weird or wok! Mother was none too pleased. For some extraordinary reason she would take it out on me and made me wear women�s clothes and put my hair in pig tails. I enjoyed it but found it very peculiar indeed. Uncle discouraged the whole thing and eventually convinced mother that this wasn't suitable for a boy/girl of my age.
Whilst in Texas we had some real laughs - doing the tourist bit - rodeo riding, pencil sharpening, recording blank tapes onto other blank tapes, sight seeing and even did some sight-seeing. Whilst at the rodeo we saw the real live Buckaroo. He looked just like his plastic model and people were carefully attaching pitch forks and buckets onto his back. I waited with my ears covered and then BANG! - he bucked his roo and the assorted garden implements were scattered for miles around. Coincidentally, whilst in Texas I also bumped into the man from Operation! Nice bloke but his sporadic buzzing really got on my tights.
After a hard days day we would go to the local diner and eat club sandwiches and drink double malt vanilla shakes and eat fries and have mayo and mustard on the side and extra pastrami and half-fat rye bread and stuff. I firkin hated American food and longed for some good old good old like what we had back home. When he'd finished eating, Uncle would often get up and do some Kareoke ('Money for Nothing' was his fave) and dance on the tables and spill coffee and get in a fight with some truckers and get thrown out the window and be laughed at by everyone in the diner and stuff. What a woman! She really was. Ha!

That summer passed with very few laughs and me parents decided it was time to go back home to blighty. I was sent to Reigate Comprehensive. The first couple of months were hard - everyone called me Top Kev - I just cowered in the corner of each class and every playground session - I didn't gain any real respect for a long time - that was until June 32nd 1978. As I look back at it now that day changed my life - it basically changed my life. Did I mention that it changed my life? Anyway..ha..ah..a...what was I saying...oh yes June. It goes a little something like this (as Jason Nevins would say): It was a normal day of beatings and slagging off at school - like a true pussy I took it all. When suddenly the whole school was introduced to a new pupil - Ads Rowat. I took one look at him and thought to myself - this boy must really know his stuff! And he bloodywell did as well. He could answer any question in the world and would reel off random facts and statistics and the drop of a spoon. His head could spin round 360 degrees and his grip was vice-like. Ads took me under his wings (which were like shields of steel) and soon no one fucked with me - yeah mutha fucker! He introduced me to the world of pop music and would often sing rap songs to me and play his turntables "up loud". We really had some laughs. We even had a camp up in the woods - it was made of real trees and real leaves. To protect it from humans, Ads erected numerous booby traps (which always caught me out) and we stored all our stuff there. Amongst other things these included false teeth, a dead Labrador, Bash Street membership cards, electric cattle prods, 3 tonne of wild bird seed, some angry chutney, half a pint of Snakebite, hymn sheets, actionman combat fatigues, a bowl of fun, lots of used pipecleaners and the number 23. There was even a fine collection of collectibles. Ads loved these alot and would polish them on an irregular basis. One time we invited some girls up there, got some Turbo Juice (ie CIDER) and got smashed up real good. The girls were giggling like young girls do and were really were having alot of. One of them get their knockers out - what a surprise. Ads fainted and I sustained an erection for an incredibly long time. She insisted that I touched them but all I could do was jot down a sketch of the beauties (picture attached -please view).
I then had to ask the girls to leave as my samurai was using up too much blood and my arms were no longer working. They were a little upset and so I gave em a can of Coke and a banana which cheered 'em up no end!
It was about this time that Cliponkas came on the scene - so we wiped it off and gave him a sharp slap across the face. I was first introduced to him when he'd gotten caught in one of Ad's traps and was trying to free himself via a system which basically involved knawing his own leg-off off. After freeing the little bastard we constructed a bionic leg for him out of everyday household objects and attached it as indicated in Diagram 3c.

Diagram 3c - Bionic Leg Fitting Instructions for Cliponkas

Cliponka really was special. You should of seen some of the tricks he used to do when he was a youthful pup. Somersaults, dives and breakdancing were just a few. One time I thought him to drive Dads car - very amusing indeed. He was so good that he was offered a slot on BBC smasher programme TOP GEAR. He had to test drive cars, tanks and boats and then bark with approval - subtitles were used. Imagine that, no subtitles. Can you? That would just be stupid mang.
After almost five years loyal service, Clippo got the boot from Top Gear but continued to stunt double for Jeremy Clarksons hair. This lead to several other stunt hair gigs including such luminaries as Des Lynham, Arthur Scargil and - wait for it - Joan Collins in Dynasty! We didn't see much of him during dem days and he was not around much either but he'd always pop back every now and then for a quick shandy and a tweak of the old bionic leg.

CHAPTER 17: TEENAGERS WITH PAGERS

After exactly 2 years of existence, our little camp in the woods spontaneously exploded and all our treasures were lost. However, me and Ads cared not one fig as we were now teenagers (with pagers) and ready for some real live shit. They say that those teenage years are the best of your lives. It started all right - sprouting hair in all the right places, getting an even higher voice, forgetting how to read and no acne whatsoever. I was big time popular at school and was all ready to jet off to university. I was so clever I was doing B levels, I was so popular I had my own throne at the dinner table - (Crown not included - grandpa had bought me that for chrimbo and a packet of Werthers Originals, but hey lets not talk about those). I was so cool I had to sleep in the fridge. Oh yeah - check me one time:

"Tone flavours are smooth, I shit turds that'a hot;
My rhymes are invincible but Cody's are....... not".

Hrrrrrrrrr!

As you can see I was paving the way for a promising career in Country & Western music. However, this was tragically cut short when a meteor became lodged in my throat and I was unable to sing for three whole years. Bugger!
Anyway, back to my teen(wolf) days. I started kiting myself out with all the essentials - hair gel, walkman, mushroom grips, stonewashed stonewash and a smart pair of Clarkes. Everyone at school copied my styles apart from Ads who refused to go stonewash. He said they looked silly - wot a nutter! My jeans were dope as fuck (photo below) I made sure they were ironed on a regular basis and they had a lovely crease down the legs. My Fragle Rock keyring and tucked in shirt completed the look. To top it off I wore a pair of "Chips" style Ray Bans. Yes Man. Now that you know about me, my mates and some of my crazy buck tooth styles, you may ask "Tones - What made you the man you are today?" You may not want to know but hell nigga I'ma gonna tell yo ass all the same.
It all began one day when I was walking home from school and fell down a hole in the pavement - I had not seen the hole before, I think it was new. I dropped down for about 5 peters and then into a tube much like one of them water slides except there was no water so my ass got properly burnt up man. The tube opened into a big underground cavern (funny that), and I landed on a burnt mattress that someone had kindly place there to prevent bruising or chaffing. Inside the cavern were lots of big bald hairy men surrounding what looked like a wrestling ring inside of which there were two more big bald hairy men fighting each other and trying to beat each other up. That's right - I had entered the seedy underground world of bare-knuckle boxing! Naturally, I was desperate to try it out and right there and right then put my name down for the next weeks under 15's competition. Looking down the sheet I scoped some of my opponents - Rickshaw Ralf, Sam "The Turnip" McKlusky, Big Balls Mike, Filo Pastry Phil, and the number one seed, Halfinch Arthur aka "Manimal" from Mexico City.
What I needed was a special fancy kinda fuck-hard stage name to strike some fear into them queers. After about 3 seconds deep thought I settled on Tear'em-up "Tigerboy" Tones (Blood Magician)! - the brackets were my idea as well. Name in place, I now needed a trainer to learn me some skills and teach me some styles.
Buster "The Vice Like Grip" Edwards was the most respected figure in this sinister underworld madness. He had once killed a man by shooting him with a gun which had bullets in it. The rumour is he pointed it at Keith "The Perm" Stevens' head, pulled the trigger and poor Keith died - oh dear. But Buster wouldn't listen to my pleas for training up sessions so I had to settle for Craig "The Mack" Mack. He was the possibly the ugliest freak type creature/man in town and "used to be a killer" (As Big Pun said on his critically acclaimed debut player - Copyright 1998) - but now he was just a fighter who killed people or was he a player who crushes alot? Hell knows. The only problem was that he really wasn't that good, but I had got myself in a situation that I couldn't get out of - so he just had to do. HE JUST HAD TO DO. "Tonight Matthew I am going to be a fighter, not a lover" was the one of the first things Craig said to me. "Eh...my freakin name is Tony Touch" I replied. "Thanks for that Matthew" he said, "now lets get into this training malarky.........."
First up, he wheeled out the Fruit Gym - an ingenious invention which was a thousand better than any Dyson or clockwork radio. Craig had thought up this little beauty whilst in prison serving a serving for GB and the damn thing worked like treat. I started off with apple lifts, then moved onto some pineapple trusts and finally the back braking kumquat ups. After only two days I was fitter than most probably and we were able to move onto some jab techniques and slap control exercises. For these we used the Punchmastermatron; not one of Craig's ideas, just something he'd ordered from QVC the week before - "The Simple But Effective Route To Personal Punching Prowess". As I trained, sweat poured from my pits and a rousing, anthemic rock ballad could be heard in the background. Craig kept punching me in the head and telling me "You're a tiger, you're a tiger!". And by the end of the week I was as well - biggest balls in town and a left hook that'd take Geoff Capes out. Raaaaa.....I AM TIGERBOY!!!!!
The days were drawing nearer, nearer, nearer and even quite close to my debut barefisted slapping session. I felt ready for it, but damn I was mad nervous. Mr Craig was a firm believer in positive mental attitude and he felt that it was very important for me to gain some additional mental prowess. I was willing to experiment with his crazy ways. He told me I had to think like a hawk with a very big mind, sting like a wasp with a very big stinger and thump like a bitch on heat with massive tits. I was syked - ready to rumble. I needed to meditate, to relax myself and to clear my mind of negativity�s. I pretty much managed to do this through the use of yoghurt, yoga and yoda. I had the force but I couldn't get my mind off one goddamn thing that had been bugging me for a hot minute. What was that you may ask?
Well fucking well go and fuck yourself mate that fucking shit is fucking private and fuck all to fucking well do with you - you fucker - so go and fucking well fuck your fucking self.
OK....OK............Sorry.....I....I...I didn't mean to take it out on you my friend. What was I just saying?....oh Yeah...the fight preparations. Craig, as thick, ugly and daft as he was, had some method in his madness. He would make me fight with wild animals. He claimed it would turn me into a mental fighting machine. I suggested horse shoes in the gloves but then I realised that it was bare fisted fighting and smacked myself round the chops for being as stupid as The Mackster (ie Craig) I went three rounds with a mountain guerrilla, knocked out Larry the Lion and knocked out an alligators tooth. I was the mother fuckin man. I was ready or was I? Was I ready or wasn't I? I think I was. I'm not sure. Was I? I don't know. Do I sign here? Is that the date? And I leave where it says exit do I?

CHAPTER 18: FIGHT NIGHT - I GONNA SMASH YOUR FACE IN.

Finally the day of the day that the contest was arrived. My rigorous training schedule had pumped me up to 3 times my natural size and I was feeling like a million million. Mum, Grandad, Auntie and Uncle all came along to cheer me on and travelled with me and Craig down the hole in the pavement - still the only way I knew to get in. The battle cavern had been festooned with flags and bunting and was looking like a mutant village fate on hormones (no tea and cake tent though - a missed opportunity I feel). Betting had already kick off and local bookie, Lucky Fernandez, was calculating the odds with his own brain. We had a quick stroll round to soak up the atmosphere and Grandad bought a handy welly boot remover from the Woldingham Scout Troop craft stall. But then it was time to get serious - I ditched the family, Craig gave me a few punches to the head and then we scooted over to the Karate-Kid style league table score board type thing to check out who my first opponent was. And d'you know who it was? it was only bloody Rickshaw Ralf wasn't it!

Ricky Ralf, as his mates called him, really was well freaky He wore three pairs of shades at once - this guy was off the wall. He in fact had four sets of eyes, but only one of these sets could be exposed to daytime sunlight. If the others were uncovered they would catch fire, like a bonfire does on bonfire night. This accounts for how he managed to count all those spilt match sticks so quickly in his first feature film "Reign Man." 184 I seem to remember! What a true superstar. I got Craig to take a photo of him for my Pannini Photo collection of barefisted bastard boxers (See below) - but I didn't dare ask Ralf for an autograph - that really would be out of order - seeing as he had no fingers. Ralf lost them during the Vietnam War. I had read somewhere that he was ambushed during a regular training exercise and by his own squadron. He left the war early with no fingers and not a hope in the world. He realised that without them he just had pure fist - nothing to get in the way. He managed to get a job in a Bakery, where he had to pound and smash dough. It was here that he was spotted and recruited into the seedy world of bare knuckle boxing by Nigel Havers - and, as they say, the rest is history.
To calm my nerves I went to spectate on some other fights. I got deeply involved in the Phillip "The Lip" Phillips versus Nigel "The Hair Gel Wizard" Nigels bout. These boys had a history. 2 years ago they had met in the final and in prehaps one of the most scandalous moments of Fisty Cuffs history the fight was cancelled. The reason for this was that they were both homosexuals and were not actually fighting but making love in the ring. The BareFist Board had since relaxed their rules and this rematch had been billed as one of the matches of the tournament. A true bare knuckle classic. From the first bell they were going at it hammer and tongs. Sweating, bleeding, heavy breathing, ballet moves, swearing, erections, extra nipples, stray hair gel and bold madness. It had everything a spectator could wish for. It lasted for 30 mins and resulted in the death of The Lip. At this point I realised I was fucked and really started to panic.
SHIT! - I really was very scared indeed and started shaking like a bitch. I ran around in a blind Hispanic trying to find a place to hide but just couldn't see anywhere suitable. Eventually, I plumped for cowering under a empty can of Fanta (apple not orange) and prayed that no one would spot me. No such luck - a passing group of ants saw me straight away and all made the 'wanker' sign at me. Then, to make things worse, a mischievous rabbit shat on my head and some tuff-guy poodle kicked sand in my face.
Well, I wasn't having that and sprung from the Fanta can in a fit of sage and onion. "I am Tigerboy and no one fucks with me! Yo is all mo fuckers". Bamm!!! with one hefty stamp I wiped out the them pesky ants, ripped the head off the rabbit and sellotaped the poodle to ceiling. "Come on Rickshat Ralf you big fucking girl, lets rock and roll!" I lept into the ring, flexing my flex and roaring like a lion. Even though our fight wasn't scheduled till 3, Ralf was right up for it and jumped in as well, giving his trademark salute and paper comb fanfare. "Charge!" I screamed and the rest was history....

I woke up in the hospital surrounded by lots of tutting doctors - They were saying things like "tut tut" and "tut tut tut tut tut...." They told me I
was in traction and that Ralf had broken my neck. I was more upset that I had lost my battle. I blamed Craig. He really was shit.
I remained in hospital for four months and despite the pain I had some real laughs in there. One of my outstanding memories was when I overdosed on some laughing gas that Juan Armchair, a mate of mine from the ward, had nicked from the supplies tent. I pissed my pants and fell out of a 4th story window, snapping my tendon and fracturing a lung - Wot a fucking laugh! Once back in traction, me and Juan started secretly customising the springs and weights that were holding me together. It was all done under the sheets so that Matron wouldn't catch us at it - or doing the modifications! (Ooo-er, classic British innuendo at its best!). After several weeks tinkering with the screw driver and glue, me and Juan were ready to reveal our invention. All the patients and staff gathered round the bed, Juan handed out Marmite sandwiches and sticky lemonade, and the Hospital janitor struck up a little ditty on his banjo. Everyone was mad keen to check our styles so we ripped back the sheets to reveal - ROBOTONE!!

Within seconds it had blown up. What a piece of shit. The crowds dispersed, they were holding their noses trying to stop themselves laughing. They weren't impressed. Nor was I and I began to cry uncontrollably and all Juan could do was laugh. Prick. I never liked him anyway. All that hard work for nothing. I had even worked out all the specifications - What had gone wrong? I was sure they were right, see for yourself:

Frequency response on axis �1dB 9Hz to 25kHz, +1/-3dB to 30kHz
Polar pattern Omnidirectional
Sensitivity 8 mV/Pa (-42 dBV/Pa)
Power requirements 48V Phantom,10mA
Max acoustic input 150 db SPL with 5K load
Peak output voltage 3V into 1K ohm, 10V into 5K
Output XLR intended to drive a balanced input (Pin 2+)
Min output load 600 ohms at pin 2 and pin 3
Noise 27dB SPL equivalent (A weighted)
Dimensions (L x D) 229mm x 22mm (9 x .860 inches)
Weight 225g (.5 lb)

I stewed over these spod like figures until I was discharged from the hospital. I realised I had been in there too long, I was turning into a geek like freak and I knew that it was time to go home to mother and start building up my Open University video collection.

More to come

Hold tight.....

Favourite links





Email me at: [email protected]

This page has been visited

times.