I awoke in surprisingly high spirits.

After checking my diary I was most pleased to find that I had a day off from my very mundane job that zeus had bestowed upon me after that nasty little disagreement that he had with Cronos. So I ordered three lesser beings to do the job for me.

However my optimism about the day was misplaced because, Hera told Zeus that I was getting fat, so he got me a personal trainer to plan several challenges for me. Mainly these challenges involved the fighting of strange animals, (you now how these classical things go).

My trainer introduced himself only as "The friend of Dorothy".

I was impressed with his colouful modeling of Oxfam and Primarks finest clothes and his flagrant homosexuality.

My first challenge appeared simple. I was to dispatch this guinea pig to Hades forthwith. So with a swift kick I sent it flying and I wrongly assumed that it had popped its cogs, and I settled down to a nights sleep.

But I was roused later and found to my horror that the beast was chewing on my foot.

So I dispatched him with no further ado, and proceeded to the nearest cobbler to fix my Caterpillar boots, which Hermes himself had loaned me from his personal collection.

The cobbler informed me that he would fix the shoes only if i was to go to the island where Aeoleus lived and gather all the winds together in a bag for him. (He had a family picnic on wednesday and didn't want it ruined by bad weather.)

He would then sell the winds to a consortium of renewable energy freaks who owned large windfarms for a vastly inflated price.

He told us tales of a three headed monster who patrolled the beach around the island.

There were also another two guardians which he reffered to only as the Sith and the Jedi.

So I set of to find a crew to help me sail.

Unfortunalty all the good sailors seemed to be away at someplace called Troy. Where the word in the acropolis was that they would be gone for 10 years. However I called Holywood and apparently they would have them back in about a week.

But I could not wait that long, so I rounded up the first rabble I could find.

Gunnery Sgt. Sparky

Two Dimensional Michy

Picasso Tongue Martin

Tango Kidd Tiley

The Canine

And the Freind of Dorothy came along as well for good measure and to use as a human sheild if the going got tough.

We boarded the mightiest vessel that we could find and set sail upon the high seas.

This is where something unfortunate occoured. I had explained to the canine that we really needed to bring the AA batteries for the camera, alas he forgot them and we forced him to walk

the planck.

Without the aid of pictures I will recount the tale of the battle which followed.

It was bad. But we won..... and I found some more batteries right at the end.

The island had seen better days, now came the task of defeating the guardians.

We cut one head of the three headed monster, and we almost left the other two heads to argue amongst themselves, until they told us that actually they hated head number three anyway because he was the best looking and everyone liked him more.

So we cut the other two heads off too for daring to converse with us.

The Jedi actually turned out to be an alcoholic pansy, and we killed him Chuck Norris style with a round-house kick to the face.

I mean resorting to sponsored lightsabres, what has the Jedi council come to.

The Sith saw us coming and to our dissatifaction he escaped.....

...So I got my shoes fixed, the cobbler got his picnic, and I lost 2 stone as well....

Its just not cricket

After a long hard days work, I decided to go for a stroll along the beach front. Imagine my surprise when I was met, not by an Ill-mannered gypsy walking his bunch of semi-wild dogs and children, but instead by a man who introduced himself as a "purveyor of finery." Such as silks from Tibet and gems from the African rift valley.

He was joined by his freindly but expendable servant Jenkins.

I asked him for the provenace and also the value of his wares. He explained to me that he was dis-pleased that I had interrupted his game of backgammon and that the goods where not for sale, but that they could be won in a test of cricketing prowess.

Not one to back down from a test of althelic ability, I challenged him to a match.

I took up the batting first, swiftly followed by the merchant himself.

Our freindly game had become a battle to claim the fruits of several years of finery collecting labour.

However when the turn of Jenkins came around, we ran into spot of bother.

His batting skill were second to none, however with one almighty swing of his bat he knocked the ball for six, and unfortuantly for him it landed straght in a very deep bog, which was overgrown with weeds and plants of several varieties.

This is when we explained to him that if the ball could not be found then according to the rules of beach cricket for English gentry his life was forfieght.

Obviously this put Jenkins in some distress and a search to find the ball and ergo save poor Jenkins' life commenced.

We first sat down for some tea, to discuss how best to use the local colonials to find the ball for us. However to our dismay we learnt that there were none to be found. So we had to do the unthinkable and look for it ourselves.

After 45 seconds we decided that the search had proved fruitless.

We consulted the great double-decker oracle to provide us with wisdom of what to do with poor Jenkins.

He first suggested that simply letting poor Jenkins off with a slapped wrist and letting him have something that he called "The benefit of the doubt", was a good plan. However this "Benefit of the doubt" sounded an awful alot like "Mercy" which we all know if only for Europeans.

His second suggestion proved to be more fitting to our tastes.

He suggested......

That we cut him up into very small strips and eat him.

This left us with the difficult problem of finding another person with which to play cricket. A quick phone call to "rent a disposable servant" and all was well however.

His cricketing skills were also extremely good and they led to my inevitable defeat.

Having lost the game and any chance of obtaining any of the finery dealers goods, I beseached him to come and enjoy tea in my official residents. I had just sent the gardener home and was not due for slave whipping duty for a least another twenty minutes. We discussed the state of the empire and problems with the rules of Croquet.

The finery purveyors new servant who for now we shall call "The claw" kept our attention with a display of juggling with sticks.

But alas too soon the time for the master and his servant to abscond came.

I was thrilled to see that even his mode of transportation was of antique persuasion. The caligraphy on the back of his wagon told me that it was at least 950 years old.

An adventure 100,000 years in the making book 2 - A very short story.

After journeying for many miles over a period, I finally arrived upon my island destination. This is where legend dictates that the fabled monster of extreme strength AKA the destroyer of trees was supposed to dwell.

And it didn't take me very long to find it.

I just followed the trail of trees that had obviously been munched upon by some being of supreme size and strength.







Nothing however could have prepared me for the sheer height and strength of the monster as it ran towards me. It was covered in sawdust and wood chippings of several varieties.

"Are you made of wood" It said to me.

"No no, I am entirely vegetable free", I replied.

"I have no use of you if you cannot be eaten, go and amuse yourself elsewhere, or I will plant you and see if you grow." It growled.

I was curious and asked for a display of its might. It pushed the tallest tree in the forest down with a mere wave of its hand.

Needless to say that there was no way in hell I was going to fight this thing as it would no doubt end in my certain death.

So after engaging in dialouge with it I found that it had to go to the mainland because it had eaten all of its old growth trees, and the new ones it had planted where not big enough yet to provide a stable diet.

I concuted a plan, involving me, the monster and a large supply of miracle grow which I would supply from the future, in return for the promise that the monster would not go to the mainland. (Because if the locals found out that I had collected the commission and not actually killed the monster needless to say that they would not be happy).

So everyone lived happily ever after except my trusty stead, who was squahed by the falling tree, and the elves who still were enslaved.

An adventure 100,000 years in the making.



After many years of painstaking labour my time-machine was finally complete.
My army of enslaved elf technicians busied themselves with the final tweeking of the machine before the ultimate test of sending me back in time to the stone-age.





Aided by my head geek, whose steadfast geekiness had proved invaluable in the construction of the time machine and also in keeping the elves in line.

I had found him eating worms and conversing with chickens in a bunker in Vietman.

Needless to say I took pity upon his eating disorder and was amused by his clucking, so I added him to my army of servants, and he worked his way up to the guy that whips all the other slaves until I discovered his knack for temporal mechanics and physics. Then I moved him to the laboratory, (I still dont pay him though).





My elves informed me that the time machine was ready. So donning my space suit I took pleasure in one finally cup of tea.


Setting off to the machine I was breathless with anticipation.


My body was warped and bent into a variety of amusing animal shapes by the force of the machine as it hurled be back to the stone age. I have pictures but they are embarresing, and we would not want to have those up here would we.






I was met by a strangely dressed cave man, who looked at me in a contemplating way.



There were other friendly natives as well, I was impressed by the lack of cannibalism that they displayed.



Soon, in my conversing with the locals, I learned of a hideous beast that destroyed the trees that some of the people used for their homes. I vowed to go and slay the beast for them, In return for a modest commission.



This required a journt upon the high seas, grabbing a trusty stead I set out upon the mission of liberating these people from the terror of the monster.

To be continued....

Agent Morrow and Jarvisio, Crimefighters of surburbia.

I was enjoying a peaceful day at home when unexpectedly General Wang rang.

"One of our operatives has been captured, they are being held by political extremists somewhere in Southampton. I have set special agent Jarvisio (Jarvis' spanish cousin) to help you." I hear the voice crackle on the line.
"This telephone will self-destruct in half a second".




No sooner had I singed my ear on the exploding telephone head set after late warning on said self obliteration. Had agent Jarvisio appeared in my kitchen and was helping himself to drinks and snacks from my private stash of seized goodies from around the globe.



Our quarrel was cut short however when we realised that we had an intruder in the house hell bent upon our destruction.





Jarvisio however has taken the initative and grabbing the first weapon that he can lay his hands on, Which happened to be a spoon because it was already in his hands, as he was busy munching his way through my stack of Marks and Spencer Ice cream, (This wasn't normal ice cream, this ice cream was made from the milk of the Dalai Lama's personal cow, and was whipped by virgins in Shangri-la. Before being lovingly spooned into tubs by Zeus himself).

Anyway, so in short he got the spoon and dispatched the intruder post-haste with a spooning to the brain.

Whenever Jarvisio accomplishes even the most pedestrian of feats he has to complete his victory dance. However since no one has yet managed to get a photo of the secret dance, you will just have to imagine how it goes.




We had to go and pick up our weaponary and ceremonial vestiges from IMF headquarters. As well as more food to last us for the duration of the mission since all my ice cream had mysteriously vanished.

So Jarvisio teleported us there using something that he had made in the shed with a lawnmower and a bicycle.

It worked OK for me but when Jarvisio tried it.....











.....There were unexpected side-effects.











Wasting no time, I picked up my hat and flag. However since all the union jacks had been taken (because it was the Queens birthday, and we had spent the entire years budget on hats, IMF had decided to sell the union jacks to the people in the street, so they could wave them and pretend that they actually cared about a bunch of germans).

I was forced to instead take the flag of one of the colonies instead. (Yeah thats right Suzanne you heard me).




When I arrived at the location I learned to my horror that the political extremists were actually Hill Billy Facists and eastern European communists working together. And to make matters worse they had trained the very beasts of the earth to do there bidding. ....






...See











A firece battle commenced between myself and these two fierce foes. Raging for several hours, carrying on after lunch and well on into the evening.

I must admit that his array of weaponary was amazing, as one can see in this picture.

Realising that I was fighting a losing battle against this Red Necked monster I was left with only one alternative.

I was forced to transform Power rangers style into my alter ego. There would be no force on earth that could stop me once I became....








............The purple electric cowboy of doom.




Not to be continued.

First take a friend. Then you must slowly break their spirit until they will be unable to respond to your fits of hysterics after you humiliate them, now you could do this by slowly easing them into a sense of security, but I find that alcohol works best.
Then you need to find an establihment in which to facilitate the evenings entertainment. I find that a dank and dark place where the police will not think to look for a body and the people surrounding you wont care is best, so the Nexus in Southampton was perfect. So Andrew and I set about torturing Nick for the entire evening, aided by the friendly Jagermeister girls.

Here you can see Andrew and myself, lulling Nick into trusting us, but notice that my hand has already started to move into the choke position.

Now you would ask yourself, if Nick is our friend
A) Why do we need to make him trust us
B) Why do we want to make him cry.

Well suffice to say that Nick has not seen us for a while and last time he roadied for us, he almost got everyone beaten half to death in Brixton by a gang of angry KFC workers.




Here you can see Andrew breast feeding Nick, this is to strengthen the bond between them, and will make the ultimate betrayal all the more painful for Nick, and ergo all the more satisfying for us.

Notice that hand feeling Andrews other nipple there. Thats not his hand, No, no. That is the hand of desire, AKA the hand of the fat biker who blatently wanted Andrew.



And how could we forget the beauty of the Jaigermiester girls, the Golden haired Sirens, the servant of Bacchus, the veritable providers of the nectar of the gods (Jaigermeister can just send me a cheque). Without whose help our journey to drunkeness would have been brutally cut short. There steady supply of alcohol made our evening all the sweeter.

After trying in vain to contain ourselfs, we decided that the time to strike has arrived. The stress of having to contain his murderous intentions for so many long hours causes Andrew to become enraged, Ranny on the other hand was distinctly non-commital to the whole affair.

Lord only knows what I was doing, but I definatly remember at least once trying to catch a tennis ball in my mouth. However I could be confusing this with that time I was at Krufts.



Now here you can see that Nick has sensed danger after Andrews surprise attack, however instead of holding his ground and dueling with Andrew, Nick has decided to use a human shield, hoping that Andrew would not dare to attack the civilian population. His hopes prove to ultimatly hold true, however this just enrages Andrew further. Nick is beginning to realise the dire situation that he is in and the thought of the inevitability of his ultimate demise is visible upon his face.

A few hours pass, wherein Andrew pursues Nick around the pastures of the Nexus. Nick is built for continous speed, however he cannot match the brute force employed by Andrew, and his capture is only a matter of time.

Here you can see that Nick has been tied up in a chair, and Andrews henchmen in the background has left to let his master finish the job.

So Andrew then feasts upon Nicks brains, the flowers are there because it is ceremonial for the sacrifice to look like a Dutch hippy.

The end, tune in soon for more tales for the Life and Times of Bobby Morrow..