If you don't like puns, I suggest you look away...
In my youth, I was a bit of a sailor. No, not like that, you dirty buggers.

It started small – leaping in to a rowing boat with nothing but a backpack stuffed with jaffa cakes and ginger beer and lazily floating down the river. Gradually, things got larger – from sailing in the estuary on little clippers, to becoming a crew member on a catamaran. I’ve sailed on passenger ferries and oil tankers, luxury yachts and canal barges – all of which ultimately led me to become a qualified Skipper.

For my first feat, I decided that I would try to set the record for sailing around the world single handed. Many tried to dissuade me, but I shook off their concerns. I got sponsored, got a boat, and on one sunny morning I set off from Portsmouth and my journey had begun.
After 2 weeks at sea, and heading for Cape Horn, I sailed straight in to the biggest storm I’ve ever seen. The sea was building giant walls of water around me, which would come crashing down on my little boat and throw me around like a twig. The wind howled, the rain lashed and the lightning seemed to be tearing the very sky asunder.

I prepared myself for the worst. I prepared for death.

And then, almost as quickly as it began, the storm was over. I was sat on a sea as flat as a mill-pond, there was no wind, and I wasn’t going anywhere. Looking over the port side, I saw a small island around 100 metres away. Checking my maps, there was nothing charted, so where on Earth was I?

I weighed anchor, dropped a dinghy, and rowed over. The Island was surrounded by gorgeous white sand – but unusually it housed a forest of tall, thin trees. I stepped ashore, fascinated at this marvel of nature.
All of a sudden a rope was thrown around me, and I found myself swiftly and expertly bound to a tree. My foes stepped out – hundreds, maybe thousands, of tiny people – like the gnomes from truckers. They swarmed up my body, and one crept up to my ear and spoke in clear, crisp English:

“Who are you?” He said.

“I’m the Devil,” I said “The Devil In Tights.”

A hush fell over the people. Eyes stared at me, fingers twitched nervously on tiny weapons. And then – the sound of laiughter.

“The prophecy!” they chanted “The Chosen One has come to save us!”

Quick as a flash, they cut my ropes. I was borne aloft along the shore, weaving between the trees... Towards a giant throne made of rubies and emeralds and gold.

Yes, friends – that was my Tree-Shored Procession.

*dies*
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Thu 15 May 2008, 12:00, 2 replies)

Oh dear oh dear oh dear...
Get back to Denmark. Now.



Tee-hee
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 15 May 2008, 12:12, closed)

One good spang deserves another
*Weighs up industrial strength frying pan*

*SPANG*

I feel better now.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 15 May 2008, 12:20, closed)