“Mention my delicious dessert”, is Gerry’s sleepy reply when I fill him in on my vague intention to document the banter on this meandering jaunt round her majesty’s isles.  We’ve just settled in for a three hour crossing on board the Stena Nordica, with it’s typically hideous seventies ‘modern’ decor, and he’s just munched some random raisiny contraption with a custard dollop on top and passed out on a couch.  We avoid the cash machines and the suspect pints of Guinness, try Truckers’ Lounge but we can’t really pull off the sleep deprived pervert look, so we make for the ‘sun deck’ for a smoke.  Absolute random fancy satellite wireless internet bonus for the Nordica I must say.  If you tried this on an airplane you’d be arrested for terrorism.

Come to think of it why’s it called the ‘Nordica’?  Did we accidentally get on a boat to Finland?

We’ll grab a much neededsleep in the morning at Holyhead before making the trek to London for a gig at Tommy Flynn’s in Camden.  Excellent times.

Up The Hoods!  We’re on a big fecking boat!  Yeo!

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