If, per chance, you had it large over the holiday weekend trying to block out what young David’s
thinking of doing to Syria - what is it Dave? Bomb one lot or arm the other lot? Or are you going for bombing and arming? Are you totally nuts? What? Oh, right. As long as you know... To continue - and the possible disastrous
consequences this action could have here, considering who he’s thinking of bombing and/or arming and the ethnic make-up of most cities here at home, and are now suffering, supine on the couch, not feeling as good as you
felt on Friday evening, here’s a little missive that should answer a few questions that may be bouncing round your aching head relating to how the hell you got home in one piece. It’s very old as, indeed, am I; so old
be it, it may be new to some of you.
How many times have you woken up in the morning after a hard night drinking and thought, ’How
on earth did I get home?' As hard as you try, you cannot piece together your return journey from the pub to your house.
The answer to this puzzle is that you used a Beer Scooter.
The Beer Scooter is a mythical form of transport, owned and leased to the drunk, by Bacchus the
Roman God of Wine. Bacchus has acquired a large batch of these magical devices. The Beer Scooter works in the following fashion:
The passenger reaches a certain level of drunkenness and the ‘slurring gland’ begins to give
off a pheromone. Bacchus or one of his many sub-contractors detects this pheromone and sends down a winged Beer Scooter.
The scooter scoops up the passenger and deposits them in their bedroom via a Trans-Dimensional Portal.
This is not cheap to run, so a large portion of the passenger's in-pocket cash is taken as payment. This answers the second questions after a night out, 'How did I spend so much money?'
Unfortunately, Beer Scooters have a poor safety record and are thought to be responsible for over
90% of all UDI (Unidentified Drinking Injuries), such as skinned knees and a sore spot on the top of your head.
An undocumented feature of the Beer Scooter is the destruction of time segments during the trip.
The nature of Trans-Dimensional Portals dictates that time will be lost and seemingly unaccounted for.
This answers a third question after a night out, ‘What the hell happened?' With good intentions,
Bacchus opted for the REMIT (Removal of Embarrassing Moments In Time) add-on, that automatically removes, in descending order, those parts in time regretted most. Unfortunately one person's REMIT is not necessarily the REMIT
of another and quite often lost time is regained in discussions over a period of time.
Independent studies have also shown that Beer Goggles often cause the Scooter's navigation system
to malfunction thus sending passengers to the wrong bedroom, often with horrific consequences.
For the family man, Beer Scooters come equipped with flowers picked from other people's gardens
and Thump-A-Lot Boots (Patent Pending). These boots are designed in such a way that no matter how quietly you tip-toe up the stairs, you are sure to wake up your other half. Special anti-gravity springs ensure that you bump
into every wall in the house and the CTSGS (Coffee Table Seeking Guidance System) explains the bruised shins. The final add-on Bacchus saw fit to invest in for some Scooters is the TA (Tobacco Absorption System). This explains
how one person can apparently get through 260 Marlboro Lights in a single night.
There’s also an on-board heater which allows you to comfortably get home from the pub in sub-zero
temperatures wearing just a T-shirt.
Quote; Ambrose Bierce.
Bacchus, n.: A convenient deity invented by the ancients as an excuse for getting drunk.
Chelsea Handler.
“There are two kinds of people I don't trust: people who don't drink and people who collect stickers.”
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