Stampede
Well, many moons ago me and a few friends were on Headingly Golf Course in Leeds collecting and nibbling mushrooms long after most people had gone to sleep and long before most of you were even a twinkle in your grandpappy's y fronts.

As the dawn broke properly over the surrounding countryside (you can imagine the scene) we decided that strolling home would be a good idea. Now, walking whilst both stoned and hallucinating is not a easy task but we managed as best we could for we had intelligence on our side, being three lawyers, a doctor and two trainee policemen.

One of these trainee policemen (who is still serving, bless) was striding out ahead and had disappeared from view over the brow of a small hill. We were diligently following in a procession somewhat reminiscent of a human interpretation of Brownian motion when, from over the hill, came our chum, running as if the world was chasing him. Indeed it was for as he passed us travelling at, it would be fair to say, a fair rate of knots, he gasped "stampede".

We took in his ashen and terrified visage and promptly collapsed laughing before finding ourselves being run into and over by a herd of very large, very quick and very directionally determined cows.

Non-plussed we rose, dusted ourselves off and walked the rest of the way home without further incident. Probably.

He has no recollection of this incident. I just rang him and asked his secretary. He sounded cross.
(Mediaslut, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 19:53, Reply)