“Things ’appened that changed me, is all. And when I pass this missive on to you, well, it could change the way you perceive certain fings.”
“I tell you what,” Jock began. “Following that introduction, there’s no way I’m passing this up.”
“No worries, squire,” said Ted, sighing. “Well, it all started innocently enough, just like you when you wandered in ’ere. I was coming back from the pub and it was raining. Really raining, like big fat drops that you could hear individually. It was warm, though, and the sky was full of lightning. But I didn’t care none, I was ten sheets to the wind.”
When viewed from the outside, Ted Johnson’s uninspiring penchant for living bottle to bottle was a meaningless and wasteful existence, but he alone harboured the unenviable secret of a potentially catastrophic fate for all the inhabitants of Planet Earth. Drawn together by a mutual fondness for alcoholic oblivion, Ted and Jock Ross ponder the future of mankind from the relative comfort of an everlasting tipple.
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