Righty children are you sitting confortably, then i shall begin

Here in follows a tale, which may ramble on for several days and i may get bored with it i dunno, but we shall see

"Fuck me!" John said spitting criossant crumbs all over his cup of coffee, "Run that by me again?"
"It's quite simple," Trev said with some annoyance, as he unfurled the A3 blueprints he was carrying around on the cafe table "Making these sorts of things is very easy and really shouldn't present us with any obsticles whatsoever"

"Let me get this straight, what you are proposing is building a small rocket and going to live on the third moon of saturn?"
"Correct"
"Righto...", munching on his second piece of fried toast, it was dawning on John that perhaps Trev wasn't quite as sane as the phychatrist's report had stated.
Trev had been for various tests after he'd tried to build a set of pubic hair straightners out of nothing more than fishing net, an old pair of dungarees and some fence posts. His claims that it worked flawlessly and he could now tuck his freshly straightned hair into his socks did nothing to slow the porters down when they tightened the straps on the straight jacket.
Looking down now at the plans spread out before him, he couldn't help wondering if perhaps he should have sought a second, or even a third opinion.

Trev stared at him over the top of his half moon spectacles as they slid still furthur down his nose. "Well, don't stand on ceremony. What do you think?"
John allowed this thoght to mull over in his mind for several minutes before answering. He had learnt it wasn't always best to be honest, but humouring Trev was usually a good thing.
"Your starter for 10. What does it run on?"
"Ah, now this is the clever bit. Most rockets run on a mixture of fuels, as does this, but i have managed to tweak the fuel mix in such a way that it will get us to the moon without a refueling stop."
"Handy that. But i hope you realise just how much fuel a normal rocket consumes in a single flight"
Trev looked slightly irritated at this jab on his knowledge.
"Yes, of course i do. 40000 litres on a good day"
"Quite, and where do you invisage 'filling up' exactly? My Tesco clubcard doesn't quite stretch to rocket refuelling."
"Not a problem, i have a homemade solution..."
Thoughts of Trev's last homemade solution to the problem of mould filled John's mind. It had taken several weeks to prize the door open to Trev's lab. He had claimed that it was a mixing mistake and less undiluted prune juice would ease the fizzing, and hence less bubbles. John hadn't been convinced at the time, and still wasn't sure how less prune juice was going to stop the rest of the ingredients, the likes of which included such exotic things as Sodium Teshilynate, Hydrogen Benzote, from blowing a hole in the floor the size of a three seater sofa. That little 'incident' had warranted Trev a three month holiday in Threstletons Home for the Unstable, and it wasn't nearly long enough in some people's opinion.



Join us tomorrow for the next exciting installment of Rocket, my arse! tomorrow

Have fun, and how do they manage to package all the broken biscuits at the end of the packet?