Horsing around with friendly pigs
~Wavy lines~ A travelling Victorian fair came to my student town of choice...well...actually I had no choice, it was the only educational facility in the UK willing to take me through UCAS' clearing system.

Anyway...in this town - a Victorian fair had indeed arrived, complete with old-timey toffee apples, dunking stations and a wonderful carousel.

Somehow I'd managed to get the shitty short straw from our shittier student magazine and had to write a story about it.

I spent the afternoon going around the stalls, taking photos and talking to toffs, that fancied themselves as historians but had more in common with the gypsy stereotype that's usually associated with this craft.

Needless to say I got bored quite quickly and buggered off for more modern fare: the student union, complete with old timey table-tennis, drinking stations and a wonderful vomit smell.

After polishing off a few cans of the finest lager with a red stripe that Jamaica has ever produced, I stumbled not into the awaiting daylight as expected but into the cool air of a summer's night.

I was sozzled and had to walk all the way through town to get to the nearest (only) kebab shop and my grotty student flat.

As I zigzagged my way through the cobbled streets I suddenly found myself next to a tented monument. I admit that I was puzzled for a second or two until my brain suddenly kicked in and informed me that this canvass monstrosity was hiding the wonderful carousel, mentioned earlier, and it also tipped me off to the fact that the chain holding it all together was sans-padlock.

Without much thought, I quickly entered the moonlit merry-go-round. It was somewhat dark inside, creating quite an eerie spectacle. Gleaming golden gaudy horses with painted pained looks on their faces. The mistreatment of these splendid animals made something inside me snap. Short story: I unhooked a horse, bolted through the awning and made my way to the aforementioned kebab shop – where I ordered a meaty grease bomb for myself and a nosebag of greens for my newly acquainted friend who I propped up against the counter of the shop.

Now, I'm not quite sure what happened, whether a CCTV camera had caught me or whether the shop owners had taken exception to the neighing and braying of my friend but two chaps from the local multi-coloured cop shop arrived.

They asked me if I'd been where the fair is. I replied that I hadn’t been near any fairies, they laughed which was a good sign and then asked about my long-in-the-tooth friend who had now slumped in the corner and become suspiciously quiet since their arrival. Again, I chose banter as my recourse, since my racehorse was keeping schtum.

We were suddenly interrupted by the counter bell of the kebab shop, informing me that my kebab was now made up and ready to go. Nice lads that they were at that shop: my kebab was not only the meaty grease bomb as advertised but it was also sprouting all sorts of extra foliage for my foal.

The police and I agreed that we should all do the right thing and return my buddy to his stable mates. We bantered and cantered all the way back to carousel, the horse was replaced, we said our farewells and I galloped off home.

Length: a few furlongs
(durtydriscoll, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 23:15, 3 replies)

Can't beat a bit of sesquipedalian loquaciousness.

( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Fri 27 Jan 2012, 0:01, closed)

Shirley you mean
equestrian libation?
(durtydriscoll, Fri 27 Jan 2012, 1:23, closed)

i don't think you would've deserved to be arrested
after all, you were only horsing about

*gets coat*
(Clashrock is being stalked by his brother on, Fri 27 Jan 2012, 12:38, closed)