The Adventures of Mr Wazzlepot’s Drinking Club

 
Mr Wazzlepot said to Frank Toefondle who said to Rose Ricenshaw who said to Mr R. Bumutton who said to Fred Lead who said to Crantoc Berryweather who said to Mark Steerwater, “Go and find me a boar!”

This is so boring writing this delightful drivel

Meanwhile at Mr Wazzleeeeeepot’s place…

The meeting place is old and familiar almost as familiar as Mr Wazzlepot’s old white mutton chops
It has a generous amount of space and afforded sea views and a turntable which doubled up as an emergency washing up liquid dispenser

Outside there was some distant rats flying through the stars

Well I certainly wouldn’t know anything about that (If you know what I mean!)

Wink, wink!

Shaky hand!

Eh!

A giant piece of snail shell can be witnessed pushing its way in through from the vacuum of space, typically it breaks, dust and mites swarm in clouds, acrid lollipops burst forth from the floor showering further sticky detritus upon the necks of our heroes and all Sunday’s grimace can be deleted permanently from now on

I am so embarrassed to have made mistakes

Its oaken floorboards feel reassuring underfoot and old Arthur Wazzlepot looks fondly upon all of you with his glass of brandy in hand, a sharp knife coated in a red residue held in the other

“Welcome, my fine young fellows to the 457th meeting of our club. I trust everyone has brought me news and a drink to share?’

There was an awful wailing sound and a dead bird fell from outside of time

It falls from the celling panels, who knows how long it had its hand lain dead up there?

Probably not long, seeing as it was now only just entering time

 “Congratulations chaps! Morserf below! She’s an ugly critter aint she? Wazzlepot said, driving his brand new sports car at full speed right through the freshly fallen carcass

Feathers went everywhere (or almost everywhere! (if you know what I mean eh! (Wink wink!)))
Its beak became the car’s exhaust

“Now come, let us drink!” He called out excitedly tooting the car’s horn

In the end it was a farm full of pigs
You could say it was a pig farm if you were cool enough
 
Wazzlepot was quickly and deftly rambled at and then informed and from that day forth no one mentioned anything else about the shame they had witnessed in that particular port of nipples

Well apart from the waves of laughter that is

Jesus Christ