by 3arn0wl

At the onset of a freshly pressed New Year, the people of Poppleton and its environs were pondering the roller coaster of the one just past.

After another stonking night at the Flying Pig he’d somehow managed to stagger home at goodness knows what ungodly hour.  By some not inconsiderable miracle, not only had he managed to find his front door, and located both his key and the lock,  he’d got upstairs to bed too – albeit still dressed in his Grandfather Clock fancy dress costume and his steel toe-capped boots.  It was well into the afternoon as the sun’s light was beginning to fade that DJ John Deere awoke and vowed never to drink again.

Some chance!

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