Last week I paid another visit to The Banners in Builth, but when I got to hes caravan I discovered the whole outer shell covered with a lime green rubber/butter, which was being meticulously pecked at BY OWLS. I was outraged by this shocking spectacle, and became so angry I inadvertently twitched a small egg from my pocket, losing it immediately via a very small howell in the growend.
Whilst my eyes looked at the sticky van with owls, a dirty old man came shuffling up behind me, shouting something about triangles and reeking of stale kebs.
I turned to look at the shuffling, disgusting, filthy old man instead of the rubbery, owl laden van and realised my folly. This was no shuffling, disgusting, filthy old man. The shuffling, disgusting, filthy old man was actually the person I was there to visit, The Banners.
"Good grief wass 'appened to yous laiyek?" I muttered.
The Banners seemed unable to free himself from his world of triangles, but did manage, through a salivary mouthpiece, to slur the words "hess ayeter hess mind enut laiyek".
Pushing aside owls we thrusted our way into the caravan, carefully squeezing through the rubber-restricted doorway, getting my leg stuck around the back, before ducking inside and entering the cramped interior. Inside we found
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