my trip to hell

Knieel,

How are you? How is the world of numbersth and figuresth (I am sorry, SOMEONE clubbed me, rather viciously and on the head as I sat in the hotel bar – ever since I have been talking with a lisp-th)I know what you are thinking; ‘Why hasn’t Dusty Mango been in touch with me, why has he not emailed and why has the light vanished from my life?’’. I can answer these 3 questions.

Well, Knieel, as you will remember I had to go to Helsinki. Unfortunately technology is NOT allowed there and therefore I was unable to take my fishing rod, I-tune player box, my cannon, my prothellfook and my laptop. It made a quiet few days, let me tell you.

I had a nightmare getting there Quasi. The tram was delayed, the ferryboat was destroyed, the glider was snapped and the suitcase I was supposed to travel in collapsed into a pile of old broken, leather straps. When I arrived in hell sink KEE, I found out, much to my disgust that my handbag had been lost in Cargo. I was informed that there was no way that my belongings would ever be returned to me and I was given an unclaimed bag from the Lost and Found box as some sort of a ghastly compensation. Well, fate was smiling on my neck that day – when I got to my lodgings I was appalled to discover that instead of the sea view, 8 star hotel, I had been promised I was expected to stay in a tent that had been pitched at the top of a mucky ravine. When I unpacked the suitcase that had been given to me, I was delighted to discover that the first item was a….was a….a waistcoat! If you recall Knieel, my last waistcoat had been stolen from my locker!!!! This new waistcoat was not a patch on the old one, but my goodness, I looked so pretty in it. Even a blind man, stopped and said something (I couldn’t understand as I don’t speak Hellsinkkish)

The last day of the trip was eventful. I stepped out of the tent and walked straight into a hornets nest. I was stunged everywhere. Luckily a hermit man was staying in the tent near me and he came and swotted the insects away. Sadly though, the hermit robbed me and left me with nothing but the waistcoat on my back and my shorts (on my But Ox). Seeing as I had no money and no home, I walked to the next town. Since I didn’t have my boots on, I cut my feet several times and by the time I had got 15 yards down the road, my feet were cut to the knee joint. When I got to the town, I was mistaken for a local criminal and was beaten up and dragged into a saloon bar – where a spotlight was shone into my eyes and I had lemon juice and salt thrown over me. When these bandits realised their mistake, I was allowed to go. I hitched a ride to the airport, with a lovely lady called PAM (picture attached) we have agreed to stay in touch and I was wondering if you would both like to come to my party?

Anyway, I must know about you? How did the trod go? What is the ETA? Have you got that report that I sent you the other day? I need it. I am currently in the process of writing my will, I will send you a copy. I have attached my holiday pictures for your viewing pleasure

Be still Knieel, for true love happens, when you are hiding behind an armchair, holding your breath.

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Rating: 8.7 out of 7 votes cast