The Greatest Explorer Of Our Time

Undoubtedly, the UK’s leading contemporary explorer is Lord Traipser Meandering. Meandering and his team of fellow adventurers have explored some of the most dangerous, out of the way places in the world. Not only that, they have also brought back plenty of evidence from those far-flung places, enabling us to learn a great deal about some of the most mysterious regions on Earth.

Just last week, Lord Meandering and the two other survivors of his party arrived back at base camp after what must be their most gruelling and dangerous feat of exploration so far.

Meandering and his team now go down in the record books. For they are the only explorers to enter an Ikea store and emerge less than three weeks later with only the item they originally went in there to buy. Unfortunately, they lost two members of the original team in tragic circumstances. One fell from the top of a bookcase into a wardrobe and never seen again. The other is believed lost under a sudden avalanche of mattresses during a freak unexpected January sale. This saw the entire team blown off course for several days by a rogue two for the price of one offer on a discontinued line of table lamps.

However, the discipline of the team paid off and they managed to get through the Ikea without further loss of life. On the way, they also discovered the mystical source of the meatballs, as well as producing the first accurate map of the fabled Land of the Sofas. A mysterious place rumoured to have some of the most comfortable sofas in the history of the world and all at reasonable prices.

Afterwards, the world’s media photographed and interviewed the jubilant survivors of the expedition in the Ikea car park. The team were brandishing the very bookcase they had entered that dangerous region to hunt for. Many had doubted if a mere five-man team, without specialised furnishing experience, could survive the hostile environment and come out without at least a set of unnecessary cut-price kitchen utensils. But, yet again, Lord Meandering and his team proved the doubters wrong.

However, that is not the end of Meandering’s thirst for exploration in the world’s most dangerous and uncharted regions. Only a few days after the great Ikea expedition was over, he was already talking of exploring the unmapped wasteland of his local shopping mall car park. Mainly to see if he could discover the whereabouts of a fabled Ford Galaxy last seen parked there back in the late 1990s.

The whole world wishes Lord Meandering and his team well in this new quest and we hope that one day soon that fabled car will be returned to civilisation once again.


Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

2 thoughts on “The Greatest Explorer Of Our Time

  1. Recently, I was told that we needed new furniture. Like most men, I didn’t know that you needed to replace things that haven’t fallen to bits.

    OK, so one of the back legs on my chair was a bit wonky, but you get used to the shape of things. And something that over the years has taken the time and trouble to mould itself to fit your contours, should not be lightly cast aside.

    However, an overdose of house makeover programmes had lodged a spark of doubt in the mind of my good lady about the aesthetic appeal of large brown furniture, and it was obviously no time to make a stand – the wonky leg precluding sudden movement.

    There was a sale at IKEA at Lakeside, so it was decided that we should go on the following Saturday.

    The queue on the M25 started in Canada, the car park was gridlocked, and if a passing giant had paused to peel back the roof of the store, it would have resembled nothing more than a tub of tattooed live-bait. Worse still was the ever-present danger of being killed by a bolt of static electricity generated by 27,000 replica footie kits rubbing together in a confined space.

    Queued for ages, spent a fortune, and finally got the stuff home. Exhausted, I collapsed in the chair with a cup of tea. The chair had obviously spotted my treachery and chose its moment carefully.

    Just I was raising the cup to my lips, and doing that pre-sip, hot-cup-of-tea-sucky-whistly-thing that you do when you get middle-aged, the leg broke off, tipping me onto the floor, and conclusively proving that I couldn’t be ‘that’ tired if I could get my shoes and trousers off in under three seconds from the time the half-pint of hot Earl Grey tipped into my lap.

    Eventually everything was assembled, with the exception of a small bookcase, which was missing its rectangular base.

    It was too late to phone. So I contacted them on the Monday morning.
    I spent ages on hold, and finally got through to a Swedish person who was able to help. After I gave him my details, the conversation went something like this:

    ‘I am missing the base section from a Skønk bookcase’
    ‘Oh yah’.
    ‘Could you tell me if you could send one out to me?’
    ‘I godda check our racehorses’
    ‘Couldn’t that wait?’
    ‘Voddayou mean?’
    ‘Well, I hardly think that this is the time to be looking up the winner of the 4.10 at Kempton Park, I need to know when you can send me my missing base section?’
    ‘I godda check our delivery racehorses’
    ‘Ah, resources.’
    ‘Yah, dats vod I said.’

    There was a long pause while the Norseperson tapped a keyboard.

    ‘Ve god no record of der delivery’
    ‘That’s because I collected the goods myself’
    ‘Ve need to haf der delivery order number, uddervise ve can’t process der order’
    ‘Does that mean that if I cancel the credit-card payment, I won’t get a bill?’
    ‘No, no, you godda pay der bill, uddervise you gonna gidda bayleaf on your front door.’

    The image of cheery Scandinavians with bags of herbs and drawing pins was already firmly fixed in my mind as I asked ‘A bayleaf? Is that the Swedish equivalent to a horse’s head in your bed?’

    ‘Vod?..You know? – A bayleaf – a debt collector.’

    The order was sorted out and a date was promised, which of course came and went without delivery of the missing bits.

    My better-half was always highly-strung, and having nowhere to store her 2,157 self-help books has driven her to the very edge. She wanders distractedly from room to room, wringing her hands and singing softly “Some day my plinth will come”.


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