We were anonymously posted the remains of a travel diary from our least favourite Zezaurian, Dr Dolorous - the pages of which were reportedly found soggy on the side of Càrn Mòr Dearg, Scotland. No one has seen him since he left in early November. Our guess is that he ran off with the girl from the chip shop, Rosie McTavish.
"...The food here is to die for. Literally. I was trying to work out what could possibly be worse than eating haggis. Then I found this on the dusty shelves of Hector McBoobies' all-purpose store..."
"...Pinch my blue nipples; it's colder than a penguin's testicle up here. The Zezaurian Survival Dept. is prone to summer-only exhibitions, so it was useless getting any of them up to the Highlands for a spot of winter adventuring. Invertebrates. But look at me; lost as a pilchard in a sandbox, freezing cold, hungry and tired. But that's not stopped me from drinking all that whiskey and setting up camp on top of the world. Well, 4,409 ft higher up than those blaspheming fannies in London anyway. Mr Hamlet, my new friend at the distillery, sent me up here to find a rare purple flower and gave me three litres of uisge-beatha (single malt). I went blind in my left eye two days ago. Besides, it's winter and there are no flowers. There's not really any grass up here either. Heck, there are no trees or people. I did see a goat yesterday though. He gave old Dr Dolorous the evil eye.
"No. It's just me, the rock, the snow and Lady Loneliness. I hope Rosie is still considering switching to the early shift on Sunday..."
We'll post up further extracts as soon as we're done drying the pages out.
If you see or hear from Dr Dolorous, please email us. His mum wants her tights back.