And while I'm at it,
I may as well put to rest the scurrilous rumours going around about what happened during my failed climb of lanarkshire's tallest hill. I had fallen behind my far fitter friend as he strode up the hill, and spent the time strolling along at a leisurely pace, admiring the wonderful scenery. This is the 100% truth, and it is a scandalous lie that my body (probably in a state of shock at the unexpected exercise) took a bout of horrified panic half way up which saw me quivering at the side of the track, trousers and pants about my ankles, shitting horrible yellow turds out onto the scenic landscape, then cleaning up the foul radioactive aftermath using a single hanky and scurrying back to the bottom of the hill.

It is unfortunate that every field on the way home had been recently fertilised and I had to adjourn immediately to the bathroom to deal with something entirely unrelated.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Sun 18 Sep 2011, 18:42, Reply)