UNDERCULTURE

What follows below is an account of the strange and mysterious event of the eve of 15 June 2007. It is my hope that this testimony will stand as warning to all travellers. Even now, in the clear and warm light of the sun, I am unsure of what transpired, whether it was angel or demon that took possession of us, and whether we can ever, truly, consider ourselves moral beings since that fateful, moonless night…

All that we know for sure is that the two dogs will never walk properly again and that a police have officially opened a missing persons case for Mr. T. Talbit who was last seen with the donkey in the cabbage patch.

The evening began sweetly and without care as we watched the sun set on the nearby hills.
We dressed and prepared ourselves for the evening. Our escort, a set of nymphomaniac cojoined twins, arrived in good time.	Here, our party prepares. From left to right, we have Lady Nippleblossom, Sir Humpalot, Duke Von Rottencrotch, Lady Incontinence, and your humble narrator, Farmer Nonuts
It soon became clear that my escort was none other than the Saint of Timeliness, as can be obviously deduced from her clock-faced halo.	We arrived and soon settled into our surroundings. Sir Humpalot, however, insisted on telling everyone about his prowess handling horns and, pretty soon, he got to show us.
Moments later, Duke Von Rottencrotch’s attempt at hypnosis backfired as he discovered the true nature of Lady Nippleblossom’s name.	Our local guard was a very talented musician and could have easily become a worldwide star were it not for his inability to tell the difference between a flute and a chicken.
Now hypnotised and drunk, our good friend the duke found himself staring in awe at the miniature pixie servants bringing him shots of tequila.	Meanwhile, our local Scott guards continued to scan the hills for signs of danger and movement.
I only see three hands. Should we be worried?	Apparently, one of the Scott guards knows where the other hand is…
Sir Alec, whose birthday it was was accompanied by a comely and buxom wench. In this photo she tries to follow the sword-polishing instructions he laid out.	When we returned home, my brother, the duke, discovered and he now sported a full and lush head of hair which, fashionably enough, resembled a malign and very hirsute spider.
Much to my horror and dismay, I, too, awoke with a full head of hair and, unaccountably, a fully shaved crotch. I have reported this event to the police.They have the matter well in hand.	The only physical accident to occur was when the duke discovered the discomfort of a male chasity belt.

Photos courtesy of Michael.