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Beer! That was it. He'd just get drunk.
It would work either one of two ways. He'd drink enough to have one of those "I could never think of this
unless I was drunk" moments, or he'd simply drink himself to death. He hoped it was the former but either
way, given his situation, beggars couldn't be choosers.
He hunted around for a while, behind the piles of clothes, rocket launchers and sex toys he'd brought with him.
Ah ha!
"There you are my beauties! " he shouted. Suddenly he froze, realising that this was the first thing
he'd actually said in over two months. He laughed even more when he realised the first thing he'd said in over
two months had been said in a really bad pirate accent. He had no idea why but he added an "Ahoy there!"
just to complete the effect. He laughed at his comedy greatness as he lifted crate after crate of beer from out
of the darkness into the centre of his living quarters.
Soon he had ninety six crates of prime San Miguel Spanish beer piled up in front of him. It worried him not that
he couldn't actually get to his bed now, as his new, genius plan was laid out before him. It worried him even less
that part of his plan involved ninety six crates of beer…
He reached into the first crate and pulled out a bottle. He looked at it. Beautiful. Golden brown with an ornate
silver and gold label. Never had a bottle of booze looked so tempting. Then for a second, he got scared… ninety
six crates of beer, but did he pack a bottle opener? Then he remembered…twist top. Thank god for the Spanish! Best
thing the Europeans ever did.
With that he gulped. And gulped. And gulped. Bottle after bottle "hit the spot". The more he drank, the
less he cared.
" Come and get me, you bastards!" he yelled. " Incy Wincy spider climbed up the water spout…"
he slurred.
" Down came the…something and something something else". By now Smiley was, as his old dear father used
to say before he was devoured by a huge tarantula, as drunk as a skunk.
Smiley was having a fantastic time! Fuck the spiders! He has his own private pub. True, it was very very private,
but hell, he was enjoying it.
But there was something missing. Damn what was it? He had his metal cell. He had hordes of marauding killer spiders
outside. He had lots and lots of beer. But something was missing. What was it?
He wracked his clouded brain for what seemed like an age, but was infact about 10 seconds.
Crisps!! That was it! Cheese and Onion crisps!
He was a genius! Again!
He surveyed the climb ahead of him. It would be hard but, damn it would be worth it. With that, Smiley started
to climb over the crates before him, his beer clogged brain treating every crate as if he was climbing Everest.
He carefully planted each hand and foot, so as not to lose his grip. He couldn't afford to fail now. His goal lay
on the other side.
As he reached the pinnacle of the beer crate mountain, he surveyed the terrain on the other side. Sheer drop. But
he could see a huge Family Bag of Walkers Cheese and Onion crisps in the valley below.
Has to be done, he thought. He steeled himself for the trek down. And with that, he took his first uncertain step
down the Wall Of Hell.
He tried hard not to look down, but the more he tried not to, the more he did, each time sending his world spinning.
In his infinite drunken wisdom , he decided on some reverse psychology. "Don't look up" was his clever
plan, hoping, of course that he therefore would. However he simply took his own advice and looked down instead...
It was hard and tortuous and totally nauseating, but he finally made it. And there she was. The Family Pack.
He picked up the treasure called Cheese and Onion, opened the pack and picked out a packet of crisps.
He held them before him briefly. "All hail the Cheese and Onion" he intoned.
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