It's not nice on the moon. It's cold and there's nothing to eat. I thought the Moon was made of cheese - it's not. It's solid rock. It's even harder than one of Granny Sooker's Rock Buns - and that's Hard.
I'm all alone and there's no-one to moan to, except myself. Oh for my tartan knee rug and a hot steaming mug of Madeira partaken in front of a roaring driftwood fire. Maybe a few packets of Doritos and a pipeful of - oh what's the point if I'm all alone. Where oh where is Geoffrey?
"GEOFFREY!!!" I shrieked, into the ghastly void.
There was no response. Of course there wasn't. I was all alone on the dark side of the Moon, spinning like an unlighted lamp in the chilling blackness of the -
"TUPPY! It's me - Geoffrey - I'm Over Here!"
"Over WHERE?" I choked back my sobs and sat up. Geoffrey's voice echoed as if from a great distance.
"I'm stuck on Saturn's ring. I've been here for ages and I can't get the frig off. My wings were welded shut by the G Force when we got sneezed out of Kevin Bacon's nose. Do something Tuppy. I'm frightened."
Saturn's ring? But surely Saturn has more than one ring? I remembered that from one All Hallow's Eve, when the Tupfinder General gave us one of his unforgettable mind-expansion lectures instead of allowing us out guising. "You're just doing it for the sweets Tuppy. Besides, there's an upper age limit for guising and you passed it eons ago. "
"Who says?" I argued. But I knew he was right. Hereabouts, if you grow taller than the fourth branch of the third rowan tree on the right as you head north south north on the clifftop path, you can no longer "Guise". In fact, you can no longer do quite a few things, but that's another story.
"Which ring are you stuck on, Geoffrey?" I shouted, knowing full well that it was pointless to ask because even if we could identify the ring, I had no means of getting there.
More later...............
