Phillip Barnaby, alcoholic, mans man, ladies man, man about town, homeless, blind, former ping pong champion and getnleman extrodinare bore a remarkable likeness to Vincent Price.
Recently, after realising that Jackie Chan had lost it and would never be great again I was thrust down the emotional metaphorical road... agast I wandered it's lonely road of despair for days. On this road I met a gentleman. His name was Phillip Barnaby, alcoholic, mans man, ladies man, man about town, homeless, blind, former ping pong champion and getnleman extrodinare
Phillip Barnaby, alcoholic, mans man, ladies man, man about town, homeless, blind, former ping pong champion and getnleman extrodinare came into my companion for that brief time after an incident on an early stint on the bumpy metaphorical road of emotion on a metaphorical stormy night when we were running out of metaphorical petrol. The metaphorical vehicle stumbled and staggered under the weight of not being able to find a metaphorical petrol station--- puttering out the stop to a hault halfway through the 33 listening of Sweet Home Alabama (which I have decided is the theme tune of satan after my stint in the car) a lone stranger carrying a bag shaped like a human body... although I would later be assured it was just his collection of vintage baseball caps. The gentlemen advanced on ths car with a half-slink/half-glide that suggested an ominous presence was near. At first I didn't open the metaphorical car door until the steam coming from his breath completley fogged up the metaphorical window. ''Howdy stranger. I was just wondering if I could hitch a lift?''. I inturn advised the gentlemen of our plight that infact we were out of luck as the metaphorical fuel had run out. The gentlemen who would later describe himself to be Phillip Barnaby, vintage cap collecting, alcoholic, mans man, ladies man, man about town, homeless, blind, former ping pong champion and getnleman extrodinare. I adivsed him that ultimatley that must become a frustratingly long name to fill out on forms. I informed him that I one I was filling in a form yesterday, and I got to the personal details section and I got a bit wrong and I disappeared! I'm back now, mind.
As all good stories start this one starts on the road. PPhillip Barnaby, an alcoholic, mans man, ladies man, man about town, homeless, blind, former ping pong champion and getnleman extrodinare, came into my companion for that brief time after an incident on an early stint on the bumpy metaphorical road of emotion on a metaphorical stormy night when we were running out of metaphorical petrol. The metaphorical vehicle stumbled and staggered under the weight of not being able to find a metaphorical petrol station--- puttering out the stop to a hault halfway through the 33 listening of Sweet Home Alabama (which I have decided is the theme tune of satan after my stint in the car) a lone stranger carrying a bag shaped like a human body... although I would later be assured it was just his collection of vintage baseball caps. The gentlemen advanced on ths car with a half-slink/half-glide that suggested an ominous presence was near. At first I didn't open the metaphorical car door until the steam coming from his breath completley fogged up the metaphorical window. ''Howdy stranger. I was just wondering if I could hitch a lift?''. I inturn advised the gentlemen of our plight that infact we were out of luck as the metaphorical fuel had run out. The gentlemen who would later describe himself to be Phillip Barnaby, former pong champion and backgammon enthusiast and alley cat trained gent extradinare. I adivsed him that ultimatley that must become a frustratingly long name to fill out on forms. I informed him that I one I was filling in a form yesterday, and I got to the personal details section and I got a bit wrong and I disappeared! I'm back now, mind.
An awkward silence later hitchhiking Phillip Barnaby, Phillip Barnaby, vintage cap collecting, alcoholic, mans man, ladies man, man about town, homeless, blind, former ping pong champion and getnleman extrodinare said that if I would allow he had to just use abit of the gerry can of petrol that he had ''to ...errr... burn my vintage baseball cap collection as I have become so disillusioned with the cap trading industry''. So he wander over to the ditch of despair and burnt the human shaped vintage baseball cap containg bag and jumped in the car. The back started yelling and moaning. hitchhiking Phillip Barnaby, Phillip Barnaby, vintage cap collecting, alcoholic, mans man, ladies man, man about town, homeless, blind, former ping pong champion and getnleman extrodinare said; ''Mothballs'.
So the three of us drove back to the reality highway and back home. A stonet cold silence enveloped us. I moved on as strange occurances happen on the bumpy metaphorical backroad of fear and that in question was one crazy night. suspicious hitchhiking Phillip Barnaby, Phillip Barnaby, vintage cap collecting, alcoholic, mans man, ladies man, man about town, homeless, blind, former ping pong champion and getnleman extrodinare reguiled us with tall tales of the time that he met Anthony Hopkins in a lift and the dizzying yarn of how he conquered his fear of cheese. The rest of the tale will have to wait of hitchhiking Phillip Barnaby, the story telling, celeb meeting, ex-cheese fearing, vintage cap collecting, alcoholic, mans man, ladies man, man about town, homeless, blind, former ping pong champion and getnleman extrodinare and at this point a friend. As the adventures along reality highway was what great roadtrip movies were made of, much like Jaws, Casablanca or Steel Magnolias.
No comments:
Post a Comment