So once again your elusive hero finds himself sampling the joys of the west coast mainline curtesy of Mr Branson.

However in these barren times one must economise where possible. As apparently we are all in it together, Lord Briss finds himself in Standard class accomodation.

The shame of it.

:@

You'll be alright, it's character-building...

Oh well, at least I have a fine luncheon to look forward to.

However Mrs Miggins pie shop is not what it once was........

Bon Voyage

(30/10/2013, 13:26)Hilary Briss Wrote: Oh well, at least I have a fine luncheon to look forward to.

However Mrs Miggins pie shop is not what it once was........

Hardly surprising.

I hear she's bedridden from the nose down.

Hmm, StarBaldricks cappuccino is a bit dodgy aswel!

Well no one wants to be presented with a suspicious looking sausage at any time of the day.

However...........

Teal for supper last night.

As you can imagine the Briss has been presented with all manner of bird throughout his illustrious career, but this little rascal hardly touched the sides. More meat on a racing snake !

Game chips, the menu said it was to be served with. Obviously Lord Briss has a vision of some delightful fat chips double-fried in goose fat.

Well fuck me. A small bowl of Walkers ready salted turns up !

WTF exclaimed Lord Briss. Dirty french turncoat bastards.

I'll give em game fucking chips. We didn't fight the hundred years war to be turned over and basted by a filthy soap dodging frog.

Game fucking chips.

(31/10/2013, 12:38)Hilary Briss Wrote: Game fucking chips.

Had a similar experience in Lisbon last year, so be mindful of the Portuguese too.

Not cricket.