Well if you must know I started searching for trite fare a long, long time ago well before pussy was even a kitten, well before Mrs cow was a calf, well before...well you get the drift. I grew up in a small village where trite fare was just a dream, the village was so small you could carpet the whole place from off-cuts, it was so small that Vatican City often used to beat the village at tiddly-winks, not that the tiddly-wink team ever complained, what with the priests hand over their mouths, anyway I digress. Where was I, long time ago, small village, trite fare thin on the ground. I knew that my life would be complete with a little trite fare, so I set off in search. Before very long (about five minutes) I came upon the next village, this too was a small village. You could get a taxi from one side to the other for 20 cents, this was not a big place. I got a taxi and made it to the other side without further mishap or much to report. After a short while (about 7 minutes, including a rest break) I came upon another village, it too was very small but fortunately it had an airport so I chartered a flight to England. I’d been left a small inheritance by a priest who used to visit our village and who had gone on to become Pope. And for those who keep asking, yes the Pope is a Catholic, well that one was anyway. I have yet to find out if bears really do poo in the woods, but I’m guessing they do. Where was I again? Oh yes, England. I thought if I was going to find any trite fare anywhere then England would be the ideal place. Sorry got to go…to be continued
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