That crazy Mundy fellow stage jumped at the Trinners annual Ball gala, where I was toast of the town as I was paraded through the Pale centre, naked and dancing in a large martini, whilst thousands of potato farmers lavished me in praise, particularly noticing my slightly larger than usual genitalia. Particularly interesting, considering the chill in the morning air and the icy cold dry vermouth swimming below where my shorts should be. Maybe I shouldn't have taken those pills that odd-eye looking guy at the Arch offered me for 3 euro a pop.