(This first appeared in the Freds Treehouse on Belmsford. Freds rule IDST.)

INTRO

You are Barry Woodgate and the object of the game is to become the Grand Duchee on the Left Hand Side of Margate City by completing a series of missions, taking control of the three main districts and collecting as many bananas as possible.

SCENE ONE – DOWNTOWN HUMPTY

Steal the Pimento parked nearby and drive south to Monte Granola. Kill the two slags on the grassy knoll and pick up the Smithun & Western gun.

Enter the Spooky Cave. There are six bananas in here. Leave those, you can collect them later. Exit through the arch window.

Shoot the sheriffs and climb up the ladder. Go left. Leave the bananas. Climb into the cardboard box.

BOSS 1 – DEPUTY DOG

God, this is as easy as piss. Keep tapping crouch keeping your finger on up and down. Go for the head, stand in front of Deputy Dog and press the look button. He’ll soon get bored.

Tap up, down, up, down simultaneously at same time. Leave the bananas.

SCENE TWO – JEMIMA’S CAFÉ

Enter the café via the door and speak to the Mayor. He’ll give you the semi-automatic Daphne and Celeste and ten bananas.

Leave the bananas and drive west to San Anna de Santa Antenna. Shoot the Boss Hoggs with the machete. Don’t forget to leave the bananas.

Board the blunkett moored in the docks and sail west to Key Point East, south to Key Point North and west again to Key Point North. More bananas. Don’t pick them up yet.

BOSS 2 – SPANDAU BALLET AND THE VICIOUS KNIDS

Not so easy. You’ll need to destroy those stupid fucking tentacle things using the karaoke. They’ll take about twenty hits each.

The entrance to Captain Stabbin’s Lair is guarded by a couple of green carolgees, which you can laugh at using the up, up and away combo. Leave the bananas alone.

Turn left. Go away.

FINAL SCENE – RICHARD BRIER’S LETTUCE CHALLENGE

So you’ve destroyed the council. Now steal the Pontac Orange and drive SN to Emu’s Diner for the final showdown with Dr. Cornetto. Go through the sliding windows and speak to the hand.

You should have collected twenty bananas by now. Give them to the hand, not to the face.

Actually, it's an observation on middle-class hypocrisy, or something along those lines.

Ryvita: - It's just an excuse for fat people to eat MORE and MORE butter, under the pretence that they are on a diet.

Butter: - It's so creamy and buttery, the cows want it back. The Fatties are not giving it up without a fatty fatty fight.

Fight: So the Fatties and the Cows enter a long and bloody battle over the butter. It finally ends seventeen years later, when Winston Churchill and a quite important cow general sign an agreement or something.



Margarine is invented, the first London Marathon takes place and Louis Pasteur discovers Spaghetti Dinosaurs (behind smoke).

Cockles and winkles, love a ducks, guvnor. Yes, as you can probably tell, I'm a Londoner, born and bred. Except that my dad comes from the Mediterranean somewhere, so that's not strictly true. The main thing is, I was raised there; I had my formative years there; I'm a cosmopolitan kind of person. Then like many people, I was filled with an overwhelming urge to get the fuck out and live somewhere a bit nicer.

So three years ago, I moved to Brighton. It's not exactly giving everything up and moving to rural France and living the life, and the people are just so down to earth, it's a humbling experience and they just pull a sausage out of their pocket and a French stick out of their arse and a bottle of rouge and have lunch on the bus as if it was normal - but it was a start.

In reality, Brighton is quite similar to London, just windier and smells more of chips. But I love the sea, the pace of life is (ever so slightly) slower. Did I mention the sea? A year later, I moved a few miles along the coast, away from the city centre for a bit more peace and quiet. The beach is less crowded, fewer students and less of those Londoners messing up the place up with their coarse language and vulgar appearance. I should have a good quality of life, fresh air and nice surroundings. I plan to edge my way along the coast a bit more and live somewhere like that town out of the Popeye film. It would almost be like being on holiday all the time...

Well, it would be. The only problem I have, and it's a minor one, is that I still commute to London to work. Yes. Despite my good efforts to live the dream, I spend most of my week in London; my friends all live in London; I go out in London; I spend weekends in London; sometimes I still feel like I live in London; it's like I never left London. Nobody bothers to visit me because I, like, live sooo far away. When you live and work in London, the rest of the world doesn't exist.

So damn you London. You're a black hole. I hate you. Oh, give us a kiss then, you filthy urban slut.