Spud Wars

Angie coming around this morning yielded some interesting (and rather lively) results. Repeatedly changing our minds as to which film to have on in the background -"Fellowship of the Ring?", "Aww, not enough time!", "How about this, I haven't seen this one?" "Okay... oh no, wait! What about the Goonies? Then we can watch that next week..." Sounds good!" "Actually, hang on a sec..."- we settle finally on 'Son of Rambow' (one of my favourite films, but Angie hadn't seen it!).

This film can't help but give us ideas...

The Aftermath

Come 2 o'clock and the film finishes, we begin rifling through an ancient, half forgotten toy box. In an attempt to emulate the film, we don intruiging hats and following some futher fishing, retrieve a long-disused potato gun!

Dodie won't mind if we borrow a couple of spuds...

-Intermission-

(Chaos ensues)

A potato or so later, we retire to the kitchen having unintentionally but effectively blocked the gun. Now beyond usefulness, we proceed to mutilate said potato.

The result? Jeremy ^ (top left, lying bleeding on the chopping board).

Epilogue

I'm still discovering and picking bits of spud off the floor (and from of my hair). 

Angie left smelling distinctly more vegetable-y than when she arrived.

Jeremy eventually recovered and now holds major shares in Marks&Spencer as well as having become a successful business owner in his own right. He continues to attend counselling sessions for emotional trauma.

The gun is beyond repair.