Poisoned by the Barbarians

I awoke today and realised I had not passed away into the night. That is obvious because I was asleep. Dumb expression, but I noticed I didn’t have my boots on.

I stopped wearing them in bed after I left Rhodesia.

Received a text from Ex. She can’t make it – it seems she has to go to work instead. What a terrible life. Fancy having to work for a living? It’s a hard knock life. I bet she even pays TAXES! I just pay for Taxis to get to the shop and back. I am not a big fan of walking. Once you spend several months walking about in the bush looking for gooks, it sort of puts you off. And, as for using that bicycle – (no comment.)

I was a little puzzled. Something didn’t quite seem right about last night. And then – ahh - I recalled. The barbarians have a secret weapon. Home made schnapps.  I recall that I, as a foreigner, participated yesterday in this ritual. The locals, as babies, suckled on the stuff so they drink it like – no problemo.

Stupidly I accepted some. I did some research. It is no wonder the Romans never conquered them. I mean – the bad ass Romans rock up wanting to thieve some more land, rape and pillage and so on. What do the Barbarians do? They send a few crates of home made schnapps and a little note – ‘Enjoy, we will pop around in a couple of hours.’

So the Barbarians just chill out in the forests a bit (believe me, they have shit loads of forests around here) and wait till the Romans start singing Ti Amor and other songs from home. Then they wander in to their camp and hack all their heads off.

I think I better stop watching Game of Thrones. (I do fancy ordering that cool sword on Ebay.)