The Sandwich: #167

The Sandwich


I am trapped in the dark with a lot of old actors, and we have no idea where we are. I am going to write to my MP about this. "Dear MP," I will write. "How are you? You don't know me, but I saw you once in the supermarket. You were buying a large jar of marmalade and some rubber gloves and nothing else. I thought that this was very odd at the time, but then when I got home and put my feet up in front of the telly, I realised that you were very probably having a party, and that everything was all right. On an unrelated note, have you ever tried putting your feet up in front of the telly? I wouldn't advise it because it means you can't see the screen. Of course, it all depends on how big your feet are. On another note - which is unrelated to the two notes I have previously noted, and which is really the real reason that I am writing to you - I am stuck in a grotty dark place with a load of old men. This is really not on, and you should make a law that will stop this happening. Bye!"

That is what I am going to write, but for now I have to figure out where I am before something really bad happens. I notice that the dust in here has an odd taste. Now then, I was a detective for an afternoon once, and during this time I made a special study of the taste, smell and texture of various types of dust, grime, muck and mess. These things can tell you a lot about a place. For instance, did you know that the dirt you find behind a washing machine in a launderette in Exeter is very different from the grease on the back of an oily duck in Nottingham. Oh yes, you've got to know these things. Right, time to put my powers to work.

I stuck out an experimental tongue. The experimental tongue is a spare one that I have in my pocket, which allows me to keep my real tongue minty fresh. Hmmm, I know that taste: pocket lint. We were in giant pocket!



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