I must stress that while I did not physically purchase this item, it was streamed into my brain-thoughts via telepathy by the greatest gentleman adventurer I have ever had the pleasure to meet and subsequently kill. So that counts, right?
*End of Disclaimer*
IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT, AND... actually, no it wasn't. It was a sunny Friday afternoon in my living room, (the sun was in the sky outside the house, not in my living room. that would just be really hot) and I had just thoroughly enjoyed my 5th bottle of liquid crack (sherry). 'Last of the summer wine' was playing on UKGOLD and the only clothing I seemed to be wearing was a pair of JML oven gloves on my feet. A typical Friday afternoon then.
As one of the bumbling old curmudgeons on the TV rolled down a hill in a bathtub and
hit a washing line full of knickers (again), I quite involuntarily let out a giant
guffaw and fell backwards on to the remote control, my pert right buttock pressing
against one of the channel changing buttons (I seem to remember it was either 'up' or
'down'). This would prove to be one of the most dangerous and yet exciting decisions
that an arse would ever make. Apart from Chasey Lain's.
As the channel changed, jolting me one step closer to being sober, static spat on to
the screen and a harsh hiss filled the air around me. This horrific noise lasted for
around 30 seconds until I realised I was on all fours, venomously hissing at the
television like a deranged polecat, at which point I promptly stopped.
An ethereal voice made itself known to me from the static drenched screen.
"NIIIIICK" it drawled.
"WHAAAAAAAAAAT?" I drawled back. Mainly because I was insanely drunk and was finding it
difficult to move my lips.
"YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN BY THE PROFESSOR TO RECIEVE HIS BOOK 'BUILD YOUR OWN TIME MACHINE: THE REAL SCIENCE OF TIME TRAVEL' BY MEANS OF THE PROFESSORS POWERFUL TELEPATHY"
I stared into the screen, highly confused.
"But I don't need therapy any more" I answered.
"NO! 'TELEPATHY', YOU CATASTROPHIC JELLY OF A MAN." Said my television. Obviously.
"THE PROFESSOR WILL NOW TRANSFER HIS MIND-BRAINS TO YOU. PREPARE YOURSELF."
And with that, I felt a tiny jolt, like being kicked in the back of the head by a massive stallion. I must admit, this made me wince a little and close my eyes.
The room was quiet.
Once I was convinced that all of the wee had come out, I opened my eyes again only to be greeted by the man on the cover of said book, posing in his time machine! It was magical! It was the professor!
"I AM PROFESSOR TIME PUNCHER. PUNCHER OF TIME. TIME AFTER TIME."
"I don't doubt that for a second, spirit" I replied, squinting at the bottle of bumwine I was still clutching.
"I AM NOT A GHOST DEAR CHAP. NOW, STOP LOOKING AT THAT BOTTLE AND HELP ME SAVE THIS PLANET FROM UNFAULTERING EVIL, WHICH WILL NOT BEND OR STOP AT THE REST OF MANKINDS MERE WEAK WHIMSEY."
At this, the Professor directed his gaze at the bottle in my trembling hand and a look
of extreme concentration passed over his face. A bit like he was having a mega poo. I
could feel the very texture of the bottle changing against my sweating palm, until my
fearful glance down only confirmed my fearful glance which was confirming just that. I
seemed to now be holding several snakes. Wrapped around a Christmas cracker.
"WHY MY HAND IS CRACKER SNAKE??!!!" I screamed as I hurled cracker snake across the
"THAT MAKES NO SENSE YOU SHAMBOLIC DRECK. ONLY YOU HAVE THE ABILITY TO BUILD THE MACHINE I HAVE DETAILED IN THIS TOME ENTITLED 'BUILD YOUR OWN TIME MACHINE: THE REAL SCIENCE OF TIME TRAVEL' BY ME, AUTHOR BRIAN CLEGG. BUILD IT AND JOIN ME IN MY ADVENTURES THROUGH THE MAJESTIC SWIRLING MIASMA OF TIME AND SPACE AS WE..."
"Hold on..." I interrupted. He stared at me as if I had a s*** on my face.
"You just said you were Brian Clegg. Author of the book. So this is you right? On the
"Umm...yes. Yes thats me." Author Brian Clegg said sheepishly. "I wanted someone to
come with me. I was lonely, and I saw you having a good time through your living room
front window as I was passing and decided you were the one."
I immediately chirped up. "So you thought I looked like the kind of fun adventurous guy
you'd like to share some sweet spacetime adventures with huh?" I added
"No." replied Author Brian Clegg. "You just looked pissed enough to actually agree to
it. I was hoping that when I jammed those slow worms in to your hand, you would pass
out, fearing I was using sorcery. Then, I could drag your inebriated body in to the
time machine, thus negating any sort of struggle."
"Where did the Christmas cracker come from then?" I questioned, pointing at it across
"It was sticking out from your letterbox when I got here. So I honestly don't know." He
answered, turning to look at the festive accessory. As his attention was diverted, I
swiftly swept up a discarded sherry bottle from the floor and cracked him over the
skull with it. He immediately died from head bad.
At first I felt awful. Had it really come to this? Cold blooded murder?
Then I felt turbo awesome because now it was my turn to have ultra cool adventures
through time! and maybe space?! I JUST DIDNT BLOODY KNOW! With this exciting and
uncertain future spinning in my head, I dragged his dead slump of a body from the
machine, punched and kicked a few buttons, and set of in to the unknown. Time.
Unfortunately, it seems that as soon as I sobered up I completely forgot everything
from that fateful afternoon, including the book, and I am at a complete loss at how to
get back. Not really sure how I am communicating this message either. Must be the
Great Book! Please help me quickly, I think the villagers are going to sacrifice me. Five stars!