This takes me back...
In July 1984 the weather was particularly hot. The whole of Hampshire had turned into a desert. I got a phone call from the Queen, informing me that she wanted me to go to Hampshire and defend it, single-handedly, from the invading sea-people. Of course, I accepted.
When I arrived, I had nothing with me apart from a penknife and a bottle of Lucozade. I knew at once that this would be the most challenging job of my career as a Freelance Monarchical Aide. The entire county was covered in sand, and the only signs of life were tumbleweed and the occasional cactus.
Using the Pogo-stick attachment of my knife, I made my way to the water's edge. Once there I made myself a hidey-hole out of sand, which I glued together with some of my sticky Lucozade.
I spent the next two months there, picking off the occasional sea-person, if they dared to surface, by throwing my penknife into their soft skulls.
It was in the second month that signs of life started to return to the county. My first contact was with a dog called Toby, who claimed that he had learnt to talk in the circus. As the sea-people seemed to have given in on their invasion, Toby and I spent our evenings relatively peacefully. We played catch with starfish, and feasted, nightly, on boiled cactus and seaweed. Were it not for the dysentry and loss of my left leg, I would describe them as the happiest days of my life.
Towards the end of the year, the Queen phoned to say that I could go home. I invited Toby to join me and, thankfully, he said yes. As we hiked through the dunes of Winchester we saw movement ahead. We were both scared, as we knew mutants were attacking innocents accross the south of England. I couldn't make out what it was, but Toby, with his enhanced dog-sight zoomed in on the movement. After a tense pause he finally declared "It's okay! It's only a dromedary!"
It was only when we got closer that Toby and I realised his mistake. It wasn't a dromedadry at all! It was a bactrian! Stupid fuck-witted shit for brains dog! How we laughed!

Unfortunately it did mean that I had to put Toby down, as he could no longer be trusted.
( baldmonkey a frothy foul-smelling vaginal discharge, Mon 10 Jan 2005, 11:06, Reply)