The joy of field archaeology...
Wincey was back in charge, at the helm of the sinking ship, just where he should be. Berny was also there, along with Sam from York Uni. As the rain whipped our skin to shreds Wincey put me in the filthiest stinking punishment trench that he could find. The rain fell, the wind howled, I whined, but I wasn't let out of the hole. Water was running over the top of my boots and the sucking sand was threatening the drag me under. I asked G-Funk what it was that I'd done wrong and all he did was laugh. Then to top off the misery Sir Stanners showed up in his gilded carriage. Immediately upon arrival he dined on an osprey sandwich, sat in the warmth and dry of the cabin and began his evil machinations against humanity. Logan Josh and I have worked out his cruel plan. When he fills in forms his writing is so big that the letters can be seen from outer space. There can only be one explanation for this: Stanners is a drone of the Martians and is passing on Earth's secrets to his overlords whilst pretending to make archaeological records. He is identifying targets for their imminent attack and pinpointing weaknesses in our defences. The man is nothing more than a species traitor!
'We have a new message from Drone Number Seven, he says we should target the one called Wincey...'
Speaking of Josh, he showed up along with Barry Onions on Thursday. The pair of them swanned about and lorded it over everyone else as though they knew what they were doing. They just succeeded in sliding about in the mud and banging into each other until Barry was cowed into bailing the ditches out:
Work, you cunt.
Friday was another day of rain of Biblical proportions. Wincey wasn't on site, he was in the office, being downloaded for his back log of eight years worth of site work. Since he never records everything we reckon he must somehow keep it all digitally stored in his head, this information is then downloaded when his 64bit memory is full. Every so often he needs a reboot as well. We (Logan, Berny, Sam and I) sat in the cabin taking a well deserved chance of him not being around second guessing everything: 'So that ditch is nearly finished is it?' 'I have no idea Graham, I've only just started taking the top fills out, I don't have x-ray vision. If I did, this job would be a whole load easier.' We sat around until two o'clock when the call came through from the Eagle's Nest to begin the retreat.
'Graham, I think the site might be slightly unworkable...'
Over the weekend, I got the chance to see Shrine of the Monkey. They played in SNAFU and were fucking excellent, mostly for the stage antics of the lead guitarist/vocalist. I have not seen such guitar faces since Hendrix and they guy's soloing was fucking class. The fella had a fucking box to stand on when he was fret wanking. It reminded me of something Hrappi said when we took Sudoku to the stage in Reykjavik: 'Always play as though you're playing to a stadium crowd.' I've seen nothing like it for a long time.
LET'S FUCKING ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCK!!!!!!!
