Sporting hair strategically flicked over one eye, a dark but casual suit open to reveal a red t-shirt and, higher up, shades perched coolly on a noble - if somewhat big and a tad pointy - nose, the urban guerilla that is Tippler strolls into the Big Blogger abode.
He also wears black shoes, polished keenly enough to facilitate the mirroring of any young ladies' nether regions should they be stupid enough to wear a skirt.
With a Marlboro full-strength cigarette (no 'Light' variety for this chap) dangling in a nonchalant manner from his lips, Tippler rubs three long, slender fingers across his one-day beard. This is not designer stubble - he got up late and said 'aw, fook it!' to his razor.
He has walked many miles to be here - no car driver, he - and he is thirsty. The sun is over the yard-arm but he doesn't crave alcohol - yet. Searching for a wholesome beverage, he studies the plan of the Big Blogger house - and strides purposefully towards the source of fresh milk.
He finds none.
This is because he has completely misread the words 'Diary Room'.
"Oh well, at least we won't be getting BSE either," he mumbles, before nodding to Spanish Goth, eyeing the latter's Jack Daniels, and making a mental note to check where the bugger stashes it.
Tippler opens a stylish, dark valise to reveal the normal toiletries, several pairs of chinos, some jeans, red, black and white t-shirts, a dozen pairs of socks, black Doc Martens boots (two pairs), the Complete Works of William Shakespeare, a volume of virgin Times crossword puzzles, several pens, a dictionary, a notebook and 400 cigarettes.
In a separate bag is a bottle of Laphroaig Scottish whisky, a hefty supply of Strongbow cider and six bottles of Chenin Blanc.
This bag has a bloody strong lock.
Also in here is the prize for the eventual winner. Given that Tippler lives in Brussels, this turns out to be a beautifully crafted Manneken Pis corkscrew from a superior souvenir shop located between a friterie and a Godiva chocolate outlet close to the Grand'Place.
Yes, the 'screwy' bit used for pulling out corks is the little peeing boy's 'willy'. More than just a little tasteful, you'll agree. It is quite clearly a spectacular prize, but Tippler knows that long before he may have to give it away, he will use it to open the perfectly chilled Chenin Blanc - preferably sharing one or two bottles with the prettiest girl in the house.
Failing that, the one with the biggest baps.
It must be noted here that there's one glaring omission from the man's luggage. He brings no undercrackers. That's right, for the duration of Big Blogger our urban guerilla will be going 'commando'. Is this because he's a tough son-of-a-gun? Well, not exactly. As previously mentioned the stupid git got up late...
Tippler is, of course, a journalist and sees his main task as keeping (fairly) accurate notes on all the happenings. And completely inaccurate notes on the stuff he will invariably make up.
Aside from that he hopes to bless this house with humour, wit, fine conversation, good grace...
...and several games of strip poker.
Let Big Blogger commence. Tippler stands ready.
(If a bit wobbly...)
Tx
*eyes Laphroaig carefully*
I like you, sir. I like you a lot.
Posted by: Joseph | Saturday, 02 June 2007 at 14:36
I see you haven't yet located the Cillit Bang that Dr Rob was so obsessed with last time around.
Yes, it may be covered in a fair few cobwebs and dead snails, but it hits the parts that Domestos just can't reach.
Good luck finding it!
Posted by: Big Blogger | Saturday, 02 June 2007 at 14:49
Strip poker, eh? I must remember to wear all of my accessories at all times.
Posted by: Katy Newton | Saturday, 02 June 2007 at 15:13
dammit the cute guys gay.
and marvellous entrance sir, you are in splendid form as usual.
Posted by: Honey | Saturday, 02 June 2007 at 19:16
Steady on tiger - I nearly laughed myself into the swimming pool with that. So you're the gay fave - hooray.
Posted by: SpanishGoth | Sunday, 03 June 2007 at 01:00
Don't try and convince us you forgot your knickers. We all know you have none.
Except those you steal from your conquests.
Which are all nailed to the wall above your bed.
Posted by: The Aunt | Sunday, 03 June 2007 at 16:42
hullo tippler. enidd's never met an urban gorilla before, let alone one that does crosswords and reads shakespeare. isn't science wonderful?
Posted by: enidd | Monday, 04 June 2007 at 05:25
HA HA - Enidds never met a gorilla before. Was it the sound of scraping knuckles on the floor that gave Tippler away?
Posted by: SpanishGoth | Monday, 04 June 2007 at 07:02
that, and the bananas.
Posted by: enidd | Monday, 04 June 2007 at 08:08
That's enough about me banana. Gadzooks - and I've only just met the woman.
Might have to rethink the undercracker situation.
Then again...
Posted by: Tippler | Monday, 04 June 2007 at 09:30
That's enough about my banana. Gadzooks - and I've only just met the woman.
Might have to rethink the undercracker situation.
Then again...
Posted by: Tippler | Monday, 04 June 2007 at 09:30
Multiplying comments is cheating. You're turning into KitKat boy
Posted by: SpanishGoth | Monday, 04 June 2007 at 12:08
I want that corkscrew!
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