With a fizz, a twang, a flash, a bang, and a particularly painful shot from my wang! I am flung far and wide through time………..

I jumped into a cold spring morning, appearing in what I initially thought was a poorly built housing estate, I quickly realised they weren’t mock Tudor houses, they are real Tudor houses,. Judging by the sheer mountains of poop and poorly stacked dead relatives outside the door of most houses I guessed I had turned up in a rather run down part of the 15th century.

Thankfully my nakedness didn’t turn out to be too much of a problem this time, happens quite a lot round these parts by all accounts, huge vagabond problem, despite the recently imposed bludgeoning ban.

It wasn’t so simple when my stuff turned up. The last time I saw a crowd this large and intent on getting their hands on a newly arriving bag it had a Michael Burke in it. They were on me in seconds, the whole humming hamlet, quite clearly attracted to anything that wasn’t covered in a liberal layer of dark brown filth.

Not being one who like’s to handy in a “situation” as I am ran as fast as a podgy man can, pulling my clothes (my clothes!, at fricking last, has been a week now) on as I made my unintentionally comedic escape, which actually worked, they clearly thought something was funny as I disappeared into the woods.

A chance to look in the bag, c’mon Right-Hand, what have you sent me.
A 2 metre piece of elasticised rope. Great, if I’m planning on starting a midget bungee club I will let you know. Thanks.
Half a tube of cheese and onion Pringles, way beyond their sell by date. Super-feckin-dooper, let’s have us a wild party seeing as the caterings been done an all.
Oh you git! PSP and half my games, this is not funny. If that bloody screen gets cracked, and I get back to my own time, I will ensure I have a hook fitted. “Oi Hamza, who does your hooks?”

I wandered for most of the day in the woods, I say wandered when I really mean staggered, lost and frightened. I say day, it was two.
Wolves just don’t give up do they? I thought that for a short while it was just the villagers I had gotten away from playing silly buggers with the bloke from the future.
But after 8 hours of constant oooOOOOHHHHing in a lycanthropic manner I got really worried. I don’t do big dogs (know a bloke who does, but this really isn’t the place), around nineteen hours into the actually quite slow pursuit, they started to cut in with the growling, and a few started doing their dirty business in my path, It was dark, and not easy to see where they were, but I know it was done with intent by the sheer number of times I stepped in it. I figured that the wolves were trying to slow me down by caking my trainers in the stuff.

And then the bear turned up. Wolves and bears don’t generally mix and tonight was no exception, they scarpered, right away, I was not to be their Pal nor Chum this night, ha ha.

Oh yes, the bear.
Well it’s funny how things work out and the people you meet doing this time travel blog, and Derrick is one of the nicest.
He appears to be (I’m not sure, bears don’t talk, no matter how bad this blog gets) an escaped dancing bear, judging by the sign round his neck and rather natty (despite the dark brown filth) waistcoat he was sporting. He was friendly to begin with, he seemed happy just to have pissed a gang of wolves off, and have someone to play him some tunes. God bless Right hand for packing the PSP, which plays music (just about, in my opinion, but I digress), and God bless my cracked idea of what constitutes music and the single song that I bothered to download to the poxy thing…
UmBongo

UPDATE: I can’t wait, we are on our way to London, Derrick thinks we are going to go down a storm with our new act……