ISLAND OF THE CANIBLES

Steve said "ahoy me hearty". The pirate was not impressed. He made us walk the plank. We got swallowed by a passing whale. We climbed out of the whales air hole. It was scary. "this is not fun" I said. But Steve was nowhere to be seen.

(I have probably got this game completely wrong)

(You forgot a chapter heading Jel but other than that I don't think you have!)

Chapter 2: Inappropriate Canible Reaction!

Having run out of our "pot," we came to our belated senses and to our surprise found ourselves still on the pirate boat. At lest we thouhgt it was a pirate boat, untill we espied with our spieing eyes the familiar insignia of Lambeth Council reveled itselth on the side of the bota! A swarthy, cleanshaven oficer came to take our details while simltuoan silumtan at the same time holding a fersome 90-inch David Bowie knife at our throts!

"Coarse villains I'll knock ye down!" he quipped. "Ye be gilty of racism in not alowing these poor underfed societal underclasses to have a meal of thy fekless bones so that they can surviv to make garridge music and contribut to the comunity! Ye shal go back and be devored as per borough regulatons, else ye shall be subjeted to a severe penalty of £25, payble in installmentts wif an atractive direct debbitt pament option!"

Says I, "Where be the Logman when a fetid spirit requires him?"

Then, all of a sudden, as if we had conkjer conjec made him up, a toothy, pale-skinned beau sauntered out of the bushes as though on his mane perambulations through Devonshire Street, pre-prandium.

Oh well so much for that idea.

it was your baby but you let it go. it came back different. such is life.

Chapter 3: A cunning disguise

...So went Steve's dream. "Wake up" I shouted. "lambeth council" he jibbered. "what?" said I. We were back on the island. I had found steve washed up with a tea chest containing a pantomime horse. Then I heard the canibles approaching. "quick" I said "no time fow worrying about local politics, get in the pantomime horse costume, it's our only chance". "nay" I said as the canibles approached "have you seen two guys" one asked "nay" I replied.

Chapter 4: A discovery

The canibles were obviously not into horse meat and decided to leave us alone. "this costume is most uncomfortable" said a muffled voice. "shut up" I said. We walked a strange walk to some trees. We took of the costume, and went into a cave. In the cave we found a skeleton and a bucket and a door. The door was locked.

(isn't it cannibal?)

BEHIND us as we unsuspectedly approached the benevolent bones. Queerly, the bones began to spake.

"Beware, me lads," he groaned with the 56th last breath in his body, "I hath taken a wrong turning in my wretched life."

"What?" Steve asked him. "You are a murderer? A robber? A debtor?"

"Nay, lad," croaked the bending bones of the soon to be erstwhile man. "I hath been sent on a fool's errand. This pirate with an eyepatch told me to set forth and find the secret paradise that doth be the 'Style Lab.' I never hath not heard of nay never thrice such thing so long as I live and breathe. Me lads. Aarrhhh, would that I had that impertinent devil in my regiment!

His eyeballs glowed like the fabled pumpkins about which Raleigh had foretold. "And now it doth be too late for you, lads. Ye are locked in and ye shall never get out. Look at me, 85 summers young and never called me Gracie. So I meeteth my doom here; thus shalt thou likewise become my baggy bones."

Desperate, Steve and I tried using the strange old man as a human battering ram to break open the door, but inavedt inavet by accident we fractured his skul fataly.

"That's torn it!" ejaculated Steve.

"Would that he had!" quips I.

"How are we EVER going to get out of here alive?"

As if by magick, the door then shyley opend, and in sauntered a toothy, pale-skinned beau what Steve and I had never seen the like of outside of certain houses of plesure in holborn.

From the bucket came a voice "I am the swimming rat, I shall grant you a wish". "get us out of here" blurted Steve, before I had a chance to think. We landed on a mountain high, and I let out a sigh. "you are so foolish" I said to Steve "where are we now, I cannot tell". "you are at the top of the world" said the swimming rat "you used your wish to get here, I can give you no more, but you better take me with you, or i'll turn you into cheese"

exclaimed the magick ratt in a vagly sinister way before suddenly being eaten by the toothy, pale-skinned beau who had mistery miys god knows how he got there.

"Ooh, I could have done with some fine barbecue sauc in which to encase that tasty treatt!" he quipped. "Nott sure about the chees option tho. Summervol Simmerv Safeway mature chedar shold do the trik."

We were inded at the topp of the world, with no obvios way down. It looked like we were all doomed to become a shiver and shake skeletten. It was frezing cold as we were atop Mount Everett. There would not even be a skelleten left if the dreaded yetti had us for his homely tea.

Luckily, with the aid of some top of the range mountainering and absailing equipmentt which I rushed out and bought, we were able to find our way back to earth.

But who should be wating for us at the bottom, knives and forkes akimbo? It was the DREADED CANIBLES - AARGH THOUST SEALEST MY DOOM!!

haha I have books and books of this as a consequence of my mum keeping all my primary school english books, plus my amazing 32 chapter epic The Intrepid Explorers. It features no canibles because they are slightly scary but it has zombys and witches and 'provisions'.

CHAPTER 6: SAFE AND SOUND

Just as the Canibles were about to eat us there was a noise at the back of the cave. They were distracted which gave me and Steve enough time to untie the knots in the ropes.
"Quick," said Steve. "Fill your hands with sand"
We did what he said and then pretended to be sitll tied up.
The Canible leader came back and loomed over us.
"Ha ha, I think we will eat the small one for a whored urve."
As he leant over to kill me, Steve threw his handful of sand in the Canible Leaders eyes. He was blinded. I threw sand in everyone elses eyes and while they were blinded we ran for the door but it was locked.
"Oh no," I said - as the canibles could see again and were come right for us.
Luckily at that moment the door was broken down.
"This is the police," the man said. It was Bergerac. He beat up the Canibles and arrested them all. Then he took us in his car to the airport where were were flown home from the Island of Jersey in the middle of the English Channel.
Our mums and dads were very pleased to see us and threw a big party at MacDonalds but Steve wouldn't eat anything because he said he had become a vegitarian.

THE END

Hang on Pete, since when was there a cave at the foot of Mount "Everett"?

Also Bergerac is far too nice to beat up anyone. He would give the "canibles" a stern reprimand with his trademark cheeky smile - perhaps box their ears at the worst.

"Mount Everett"-If you don't cave, fuck off.

Mount Everett = Tallest mountain on Jersey well known for its caves of Canibles. (Actually its the tallest mountain out of any of the Channel Islands.)

poor swimming rat! :(

I'm sure he'll be back in ISLAND OF THE SMUGLERS jel.

(Has Sarah taken over Tom's computer again?)

Swimming Rat floated in the ether. "Fools! Do they not know that a magic rat can never die?". Space enveloped the wet rat. "Yet, what is this place? Why do I not feel?". Swimming Rat had reached that place at the edge of the page, where there is not anything and no nothing. Somewhere in the void there was a light. Swimming Rat swam toward it, for he was good at swimming. "A measly torch!" he exclaimed "What is the point of a poxy torch in a place like this?". The torches beam shone thru the endless. "I will just follow the beam" thought the Rat. And that is what he did.

until he entered the cynosure of the nuclear explosion unleashed by Evil Cap'n Dubya and was instantly deconstructed into his individual atoms.

"Shit I fell for that one didn't I?" he quipped.

Chapter 12: Sod Canibles I Want Space Hoppers YAY!

Following their near miraculous escap from the canibles by means of some Iraqi surplus artillery which Steve had rushed out and bought, they had sailed back home, having happily agreed a 60 weeks @ £1.25 per week repayment option with Lambeth Council.

Now Steve was sitting in the last-but-one carriage of the Northern Line tube as it approached Belsize Park. Canibles are all very well, he sniggered to himself in a David-Brent-only-scripted-by-a-past-it-Neil-Simon kind of a way, but why can't I get a shag? I mean, like, I'm a, like, y'know, sensitive guy and that, I have a David Gray CD of which I have played at least three tracks, y'know, all the way through, and yet I can't get a result. Women avoid me. Is it because, like, they want a brute? Should I become a, like, canible? That's so, y'know, 1929, isn't it?

So he decided to move to Hoxton and become a vegetarian. But still no one bothered him, until, one bright Sunday morn, whilst googling Catweazle in the local internet cafe, who should saunter in but a toothy, pale-skinned beau.

You did not encounter this kind of grief in Mill Hill, he self-quipped.

over a millenia, the individual atoms of swimming rat reformed! "I can never die!!!" he exclaimed. "Whatever" said Britney.

before she swallowed him, then turned back to Steve, grimly beheld him in her gimlet gaze and quipped: "What sort of a story is this anyway? You're just gonna stitch me up, aren't you?"

I was, like, well, what would Davina McCall have said in such a situation? Would I have been, y'know, sizing her up and that? I dwelt in dreams of Britney but realised that it would never come true unless I got rid of that irritating murmur emanating from within her maws:

"Ye-sh cuuuntt kull muuuue!" It was that dratted rat.

"Dash it!" I ejaculated. "Couldn't these canibles have been ratibles instead?" There was only one thing to do. I reached for my trusty sword of honour, withdrew it and set about terminating this interminable rodent for good. Unfortunately I failed to accomplish this, and instead fataly stabed Britney insted.

"You ASShole!" she quipped amidst her gurgling. "JustIN! I didn't mean it! Sort this ASShole out for GOOD, you ASShole!"

Atop a sturdy length of rope which I had rushed out and bought, swung the swarthenly, behatted Justin Timberland with debonair decorum.

"OK, Brit! I'll - heh, heh - TAKE IT FROM HERE!" he grined evilly.

"Take It From Here?" I thought to myself as Justin beheaded me with his CD cutter. "I, like, remember that...wasn't that, y'know, Jimmy Edwards and that Terry and June woman>"

I was in a right royal fix to be sure.