Beware the Idles' March The Weekly: Maintaining Britain's Standards
BINGO!
Hahahaha! I conquer you, elderlies!

Fire!

Yes! I skilfully crossed out the randomly drawn numbers on this randomly chosen sheet of paper printed with a random selection

Ah, excuse me, I - er, um, oh, well, never mind. Sorry, everyone. Sorry

I am going to die unless I get out of this hall right now
Millington's Face
Splendour of the Deep
I'm off to Germany again. Quite without announcement, we are not crossing The Channel by ferry, but are instead going through The Chunnel. At this precise moment I am sitting on a coach, on a train. What an extraordinary world of wonders we live in. Though I'm a wily old hand at it now (for example, I took care to seat myself by a pair of Algerians who, it goes without saying, were taken away by French officials before we had even left English shores, thereby affording me the opulent leg-room I enjoy right now) the 163 service is as constantly entertaining as ever it was.

" Hit the side of the train "
Driving on to the train, the driver exclaimed over the still switched-on tannoy, "Wha-hey! That was close - I really thought I was going to hit the side of the train that time," before telling us that, "Officially, you're asked to stay aboard the vehicle, but we don't care one way or the other. However, I should mention that if you want to take photographs, please don't use a flash as it interferes with the fire alarm system on the train." Someone pounce on my confidence before it sails away above the clouds.

Why anyone should want to take a photo I can't imagine. We're in a white box, with about eighteen inches of space either side of us. You could leave the lens cap on and get pretty much the same result. The odd thing is that there's no sensation of movement. At least, not of forward movement. We're wobbling from side to side, but that's all. The only clues to what's going on are the oppressive, stuffy heat and the sudden ramping up of intense pressure inside the ears. It's not something I immediately identified: I vaguely thought, "How odd: I'm sweltering and my eardrums are at bursting point," and was happy to leave it there; it was up to my mind to add with spiteful helpfulness, "Ahhh - that'll be because you're in a coach, in a train, in a tunnel, a frontiers-of-engineeringly huge depth under a crushingly massive amount of water, Mil."

Think it's time I put my Overkill tape on. It'll be something ironic for the newspaper report.
Familial:
Millington's Face | God Rest Ye, Merry Millington | Splendour Of The Deep | Road Movee in a Coach Stylee | I Am Going To Die

Christ! What was that? It was Millington's Book.
CREEPY FURNITURE
Shrieking Table Set

Doctor Ottoman

Sucking Leather

The Vickers-Tremp Ungainly Armchair

Whispering Wallpaper
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