Since the episode with the posh llama and the omnipotent kitchenware, many events have occurred, all of them completely stupid, pointless and unbelievable. I continue my journey across the frozen wastelands, accompanied by a small epileptic pin cushion who likes to call itself Elizabeth. I cannot recall how I came here, or how I can get out. I watch as the pin cushion moves along slowly, in a manner that can only be described as quilching. Now, quilching is a type of movement unique to pin cushions, and would be quite difficult to describe. It is a variety of hop, mixed in with some form of bouncing and mildly associated with some obscure manoeuvres that acutely resembles country dancing.

  “How much further?” Enquired Elizabeth, tired from all of the quilching and vorking she had been doing to come this far.
  “I don’t know. Perhaps a metre, perhaps a mile. Perhaps we will never be ‘there’.” I say, and almost laugh as she gives me a glaring swallop. Now, to avoid confusing you, a swallop is akin to the human word ‘frowning’, except, since pin cushions have no faces to make expressions with, it is unique to them and some types of tree. This explains the feeling people sometimes get that they’re being watched, while wandering through forests. There are no people around them, merely multiple trees swalloping at them in an obfuscatious manner. Now, back to the point, I seriously did not have any idea how far we had to travel. Occasionally I would see a glint of something on the horizon, but as with all other hope I had ever known, it vanished whenever I tried to get closer or focus on it more clearly. It is one of those things that clearly dislikes you, and whenever it sees you, it moves rapidly in the opposite direction. A good example of this behaviour can be found in the French. Whenever a French person enters an English restaurant, everybody else immediately attempts to move away or leave the restaurant entirely. Although I severely doubt there is a French person on the horizon constantly moving away from me, I would not say anything is impossible after the previous few days.

I blink, and the ground falls away from beneath my feet. I blink once more, and my feet fall away from beneath the ground. The entire Universe seems to invert before me and all of a sudden I find myself inside a giant fish tank. A giant fish swims towards me, and asks my name. I tell it, and it says that I have no chance of escape, since this place is infinitely big, and even after swimming for years it has never reached the end. I am confused by this, and look around. I can clearly see all four walls of the tank, so what can be the problem? I call after the fish as it swims away, but it does not hear me. It swims back towards me, and enquires of my name once more. I tell it, and it says I have no chance of escape, since this place is infinitely big, and even after swimming for years it has never reached the end. I am confused by this, and tell the fish it has already told me this. It swims around the tank once more, and asks me my name once more. This is clearly not getting me anywhere, so I tell it to go away. It mutters to itself and swims off. I look up, and I realise that if I can get to the surface I can escape the tank, since the water level is quite high. Unfortunately, the currents in the tank mean I cannot swim upwards very far without being swept back down to the bottom. I have an idea. The fish comes to me and asks me my name, and then begins to warn me about some kind of rude creature that told it to go away not so long ago. I ask it if it will swim me to the surface, but it clearly does not know what a surface is. Alright, on to plan B then. I pick up a small rock off the bottom and smack the fish right between the eyes. I then grab onto one of its fins, and hold on as it floats - upside-down - to the surface.

  The water parts around me, and I find myself deposited into a Japanese penguin preserve. I find it difficult to understand the Japanese penguins, so Elizabeth interprets for me. "moo moo moo moo" she proclaims. It is self-evident that this Japanese penguin believes itself to be a cow. How sad. I speak to the other kangaroo and it instead speaks Mexican. I know this not because i've ever heard a word of Mexican, but instead because of the fact it is attempting to sell me a cheap T-shirt and nick my wallet simultaneously. After securing my possessions, the kangaroo begins to move away from me, and it is at that time I notice it in fact has no legs. It is suspended by a large arm. I look around, and notice the arm is connected to a rather oversized monkey. The Mexican kangaroo and the Japanese penguin appear to in fact be a pair of rather large sock puppets. The monkey seems to lose interest in me, and begins to eat a banana so great in mass that could easily feed the third world for one year, thirty two days and possibly a further 15 hours depending on the balance of imported and exported foodstuffs in the economy. It just so happens that I lose interest in the monkey. I decide to sit back, chill and put my feet up. I begin to float away, and a sensation of relaxation sweeps over me like a mop upon a spilt drink (inspired by drink-spilling expert Mark Young). All sense of equilibrium leaves me, and I begin to fall. I continue to fall for several hours, before remembering that i'm supposed to hit the ground, and after a few minutes of not being bothered, I finally decide to do so.