I keep looking at an owl

 I was on my way home on the bus like, gummen back from Builth o'er thrid after visiting thab waster Carl enut, when I spotted an owl outside. He/she was desperately trying to keep up the the bus, flappin hess wings in a demented way until he was shrouded by rubbery trees and shaken from my view. When I got home I pulled out my 'Owls of Radnorshire' guide and there he was - this big ole boy callet 'The Cascob Shaker'. I looked at his photo, and it felt like he was looken at me.

I shut the book and went into my old cupboard/pantry out the back to see if I had any booze. The door doesn't fully open so I have to jamb it as far as he'll go, then squeeze myself in sideways, whilst ducking my head below the triangular shelf at the top. It means my leg is at a funny angle but if you get it just right you can get in and out again without rubbing. I've asked the council to sort it out but they arn listenin.

Anyway I foun a bottil of ole Wiggers cider from the Kington Spar and necked that for a bit. The rubbery residue danced on my tongue like Drummonds dandruff, and charged me with special UFO magic. Fortified, I crept back into the living room and was terrified to see the book open on the floor, The Cascob Shaker staren up at me with a look of disgust on his feathery little face. I can't stop looking at him, and I'm getting really over-excited horses Danny Baker triangles levers rubbed down with leaves by the Evancoyd WI stop it

Wibbly was rayet

I visited Romany 'Banny' Barnard down at his caravan in Builth last week, as he was having a special offer on his painted 'Eggworld' tins. In between mouthfuls of 'Larabum Pie', and careful to avoid the crumb laden spray from said pie, he tole me about 'thab aliens on der telly enut'.

In fact he's started writing a book about his suspicions, focussing on the changing shapes of Soap Celebrity, and their alien shape-shifting properties. Titled 'Wibbly was rayet', it's going to be a lavishly illustrated delight.

'Id ayent rayet' he tole me, 'thab aliens gumminaget poor ole Banny enut like'. After sharing some dubious looking 'cider', and getting a headache from his barking dogs I made my excuses to leave. His caravan was a jumble of broken computers, metal frames and giant wooden triangles and squeezing my way through them was difficult. I had to duck under a giant rubber octogram decorated with leaves, getting my leg around the back angle before painfully edging though the small gap at the bottom.

On my return to Kington I spoke at length with the council, warning them about theb shape shifting aliens getting over-excited enut

Cascob Bucket Alien

"I pud im in thad bucket look"

I was standing at the entrance to 'Rubber' Dennis Jones' barn, over Cascob way. Everything smelled of cow, but that was probably because of the cows. He'd sent me an 'electronic message' to my phone see as he knew I was into these UFO's, and tole me "I found an alien look up at top field like, so you better come down 'ere and look at thisun".

 Off I went, and so here I am on a cold, wet, night standing by a barn instead of in front of the telley, or getting cidered up at The Swan.

Anyway, I thought I'd better get on with it. I stepped into the barn, which was badly lit, but still enough light so I could still see THE THING in the bucket. It's hard to describe and I'm a man of few numbers but I'll do my best. In the bucket before me I could see what looked like a pile of dark, green jelly triangles, covered in wee. At first I thought it was some old farmers dinner, or a bit of left over agricultural geometry but as I got closer I swear the blummen thing moved like.

 I'd like to say I stayed and investigated the matter in a full and professional manner. Instead I became over-excited and ran down the lane away from that TERRIBLE THING before coming into contact with a series of fences and gates, which slowed me down as I had to bend under into the small holes and get my arm twisted back, restricting my breathing slightly, so I could squeeze underneath and back on the road up to Beggars Bush. I tole the council about it but they weren't interested......AS USUAL.

Lou Grant is being replaced by Des Desmond

I've been researching the legend of the local pie-shaped UFO, via the Kington bopper brigade - old retired teachers and kernels who are now highly respectacled members of the local council chamber of things.

One such rebel has furnished me with drink and whispered half-told stories about 'Rubber Dave' the marathon man who rode a horse through town once. Apparently he was not averse to 'cooking up the pies' and sending them on their way to the stars.

The rebel took me to a quiet back street, behind the shops in Kington, and by squeezing into a very narrow crack in the wall, and bending my leg up the back so I could push my frame into the gap, I was able to observe the ceremony of behave

Bill Drummonds lub ole ironum

I had an idea that all the horses on this website were going to be replaced by tiny pieces of paper with joined-up writing on them. Boppers would descend upon these little treasures as if witnessing Nortons Chococalte Delight. Or Robby Wlilliams watchen a UFO like. Or Bill Drummonds lub ole ironum. Or Danny Bakers lovely spume.

Anyway up we went inside the triangle, right up to the top of the clock tower only delayed slightly by having to climb through the very narrow opening at the bit next to the levers, where I had to angle my leg past the thing, then crouch under the retention beam before dislocating my back feature allowing me to manoever sideways into a space smaller than a vicars residue.

It was worth it though.