Dead Skin Mask

As promised I have uploaded some photos of last week's trip out to Bridlington.

OK, not Bridlington, but York. The RA were brought in to help reduce the pockets of resistance left in Tang Hall

The most exciting thing to happen all week:  a Sea King went over site.

How site looked when I arrived...

Dave Rhodes rocks, but gently...

Carolyn, the finest stripper the East Coast has to offer...

Coming attractions...

HELP! HELP! I'M TRAPPED! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?

Bridlington knows its audience

 

'I'll take the Daniel O'Donnell pepper pot (I've already got a salt shaker...) and the Meercat figurine, please..'

A fitting tribute to the Hero of Damascus, a sun dial...

...overlooked by a council flat.

When I first saw this, I thought it said 'Wayward Ho'. Promising so much. Then I reread it and wondered what the fuck they were trying to say?
'Go West! It's better than this shithole in the east!'

The bright shopping experiences of Bridlington, just like Milan

Wide European style boulevards packed with cafes serving coffee twenty four hours of the day...

A bustling and lively seafront awaits...

'What year is this? Who's the President?'

Bridlington battles racism

Shadows over Bridlington, Cthulhu is risen...

Children of the corn...

After a week of fucking the site

This weekend I bought a metric fuckload of meat and beer (costing exactly £66.60p!!) for a small gathering in order to celebrate Cap'n Blighty's return from the colonies. Since marrying Pocahontas he has been working as a missionary bringing the Good Word to the Oneida. The news of his arrival drew in Mithras from Middle Earth and Tarquin Sheen from the frozen wastes of Ultima Thule. Moogdroog's highly developed sense of smell sniffed the whiff of burnt meat on the wind and also turned up, banging on the door, demanding food.

With a lack of garden furniture Moogdroog forced me to move the settee out of the house into the garden whilst raining blows down on me. It later lashed it down and my settee is still damp.

Stop hitting me!

Tarquin demonstrated his style of self defence that seems to centre around stabbing everyone before they get you.

I'm gonna fucking cut you!

And as usual with all my friend's gatherings the evening progressed into a drunken orgy of violence and comics.

And I finally brought the evening to a head by demonstrating the Manowar power fist to Cap'n Blighty at 3.00am whilst playing Sons of Odin at full blast.

The following day, we ditched Cap'n Blighty and the rest of us headed out to Wharram Percy to find the deserted medieval village. We searched and searched all afternoon in the lashing rain but we couldn't see no fucking village. The only thing we saw was a bunch of lumps in the ground. There were a few information boards scattered around indicating where the ploughs and sackbuts were kept, but beyond that, there was no sign of a Medieval village at all. It was a right fucking rip off. Well, it would have been if we'd have had to pay to get in.

'Where's the fucking village?!'

I finished the weekend off watching Hidden Fortress again with Tarquin, we both failed to spot Darth Vader in it.

Which ones are the gay robots?

And finally, Captain  Hindsight says 'The last post was NSFW, so don't look at it in a public space.'