Zezaurians don't climb Ben Nevis

By Stirling McIndependence

Scotland is a hilly place just north of England where Mel Gibson lived in 1273. I went there last week to climb Ben Nevis, but forgot how weather works and I only packed my summer clothes because it was really sunny in London. Weirdly, it turned out it was too cold, wet and windy to do any mountain climbing. Instead we took a bunch of pictures of Scottish things:

This is what the chairs in Little Chef do when they're on a break.

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Dear Scotland: Let. It. Go. That film was like, what? three stars at best?

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"Michelle, they better bloody-well have wi-fi back at the B&B because I need to load this picture onto Facebook like, pronto."

"Martin, my mum will go flippin' mental when she sees this."

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"You facking wunt some ya bald cunt? I'll facking do ya."

"Leave it Tel. Tel, leave it; he's only little."

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"And on today's Classic Rock Hour we'll be listening to your views on why all Scottish people look like crows."

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I've never stood in 60 mile-per-hour wind before. Seriously, when you look at this picture you need to put a hair dryer on top of your screen and whistle like a demented monkey just to taste a fraction of how insane that really was. Also, if you look really closely you can see a leprechaun flying in the air just above the forest.

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And poor old Twiglet over here. We had to put horse shoes in her pockets. She only weighs four stone.

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Being vegan makes you feel quite smug and self-righteous, but hummus can't hold two slices of bread together for shit. After four hours in my backpack it was like eating soggy leaves wrapped in a humid sanitary towel.

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You probably don't know this, but Scotland is a world leader in product design. For instance, I didn't know that this scrubbing brush had such an innovative and useful feature inbuilt. I was doing the washing-up and my mind started FREAKING OUT. Then I drained the water and went, "Oh. That's pretty gay."

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If you've been driving for nine hours straight you sort of enter this weird trance where you can only see flickering white lines and you want to scream at anything that moves slower than 90 miles per hour. It gets to a point where you don't really know what you need anymore, then someone gives you one of these, sticks My Best Friend's Wedding in the DVD player and slowly you're coaxed back to the Real World like a drug addict after their first cold turkey. God bless you Big Orange Thing.

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Look at that smug little fucker: "Ooh ooh, you can stick me anywhere!"

Twat.