Published August 14, 2009
Well, being as glass half empty kind of guy I feel somewhat vindicated by the lack of tangible evidence thus far. Ross’s instinct that a Randy Rimmer’s presence can be felt in the Fitzwaters Arms is yet to be proved as anything other than a hunch. The only possible explanation could be that Susan may have undergone a sex change in the afterlife which is a distinct impossibilty as far as I’m concerned. True, lead latticed window can only be found in a haunted house but the icy blasts that Ross could feel shooting up his trouser leg could be explained by the inadequate insulation provided by these very windows.
The alleged presence of a ‘Susan’ cannot be considered to be a plausible phenomenon either as after extensive research about the local area, the only Susan that I know to have visited the pub was Susan Tully (Michelle Fowler) who stopped off to do a poo when getting lost on her way to a shoot on location for Eastenders in 1986.
I wish I could share Ross’s enthusiasm for this investigation but my pessimism is born out of embarassing teenage experiences where my naive and gullible nature got the better of me. I mean, if you ever believed that you could enhance your appeal to the opposite by wearing a bumbag to a nightclub, you could surely appreciate my cautious attitude.
Anyway, that’s enough from me for now. I don’t want to give too much away from the next episode but what I can say is that things certainly turn a good deal darker……….you have been warned!
Published August 1, 2009
Hi there listeners and welcome to the premier of my (Simon) blogs. In future blogs, you can read on the goings on in the crazy world of Adventure Men.
Being my first ever blog writing experience I must admit that this is all a bit strange. I can only liken this to standing in a vast expansive field perhaps and speaking to myself, whispering even, hoping that a few insects might take interest at first and start to buzz around me, followed by some friendly non-disease carrying rodents and then maybe a herd of cattle amble up towards me and stare in that way that only cattle can.
This laboured metaphor continues in a similar vein to a point where the local village all arrive to hear me speak in this field, perhaps bring a picnic and hang on my every word. I don’t expect this to be the case. Whats more likely is that an angry, over-worked and under-paid dairy farmer hurls a tirade of non-sensical, undecipherable verbal abuse at me, sets his two rabid dogs onto me and then feeds me to his children. Or worse, Jeremy Clarkson decides to indulge his deluded belief that he can drive his car anywhere he likes and he ploughs into me in a Range Rover whilst listening to Phil Collins and eating a Peperami. The very thought of which chills me to the bones, so much so that I need a lie down.
However, I will soldier on in true Adventure Man fashion and to hell with the consequences! Keep it Adventure, keep it Men, keep it Adventure Men.