Muckfast Abbey

(first off - apologies for the brown thing at the RH side of the bottle - there's something stuck in my scanner)

...there we were, suspended in a net, hundreds of feet above a fiery pit.
Far below, we saw thousands of rats scurrying around with lengths of tubing, attaching them to bubbling, smoking test tubes.
"What's going on?" we gasped in unison.
"Welcome to Muckfast Abbey," shrilled Tuppence, removing a pistol from his belt and twirling it in a devil-may-care fashion.
"He's only extracting Mindmuck and distilling into a rather lethal tonic wine!" whispered the T-G.
"I heard that!" snapped Tuppence, giving the net a shove with a pointy stick and making us swing out further over the fiery pit. "Yes. I'm making Muckfast, and it will be available in a range of flavours in Speedispend hypermarket and compulsory screening centre for Christmas. For example - Greed, Jealousy, Spite, Envy (that's a bit like Chartreuse), Bile, Hatred, Lust (not that that applies to you lot), Foot-picking, and Arse-scratching. There will be more. And for that, I need more source material."
Tuppence lifted a megaphone to his lips. "Lower the net! get them into position, then begin the MindMuck Removal procedure IMMEDIATELY!"
"Oo-er Tuppy," quavered Geofrey. "Hadn't we better ought to DO something?"
"Anyone got a pair of scissors," I asked feverishly. "Maybe we could cut our way out of the net."
"Don't be stupid Tuppy. We'd only plummet into the fiery pit. We'll have to think of something else."
more tomorrow.