Rolling like the steam powered behemoth of the sun it would dearly not like to eat, the electric rat will decimate the warm & furry world in which your shed presides, perhaps as mice would. Revealing the truth about the great Volcano-Yeti-Earthquake disaster of 1966 in full fetidly diseased riddled detail. It scared us, you might die here...

Erjal and Arkle, well known moon-based fuzz celebrities they may be. However, to discuss them is to veritablarianise (new word) or cast fire over large acres of oats - in short, pointless. You may, or may not have have heard about the ongoing terror stricken goings on in 1966 which heralded the arrival of the great Yolcano-Yeti-Earthquake disaster, much as you would herald shards of death hurled to your knees. We feel the whole story must be told so everyone can bask in the bright lights of horror.

Beginning on a moonlit Tuesday for no apparent reason. On second thoughts we shall not. The great V-Y-E disaster did not occur on a Tuesday and nor was it moonlit, thats just fouking madness. As it happened, a young woman in Denmark was casually fishing in a traditional Danish way. She had finished yodling at cars and plunging murky lettuces into vast barrels of ash. All that remained was to pour deadly acid into the river and she could collect her harvest with joy and recklessness abound. This was where it all went wrong. Rolling down the mountain in ritual furballs, a flotillian of Yeti's devoured all life in their path. Local boy Sep Blatter summed it up best "Fouking Yeti's! Damn that red jewel that felled all before it!". His gift for the fouking irrevelant clearly built on strong foundations.

The next such incident occurred elsewhere and was not 'such' as in involving Yeti's, because it did not. Krakatoa, East of Java. Go easter and you arrive in Australia. Here in July 1966 a huge volcano destroyed a sand farm in New South Wales. Conservative estimates put the damage at around £1.80's worth of sand. The local economy was devastated and even today, the entire community still weaves bread into horrible deformed figures, weeping at the loss of their heraldic eagles. The mayor of the nameless desert wilderness spoke quietly "Our lives are ruined. Sand was the only true way, though tasteful hats are quite commonly accepted as an alternative". Wise words from a desperate man.

Meanwhile (and two weeks prior), the town of Egswick in England was hit by a tremoundous earthquake. People shook on the next street and a cat fell over. Citizens, alarmed at the general chaos that ensued, made efforts to guarantee no such recurrence. A huge bomb was built which detonated early and maimed the entire town. Noone dares speak of Egswick anyone more. It is confined to books, and only those books about silly bomb accidents. A resident of Redtownwesthere, neighbouring newly renamed Tabooton commented famously "Egswick is a crap town full of stowpid fouks. Couldn't have happened to anywhere more deserving". This person was famously hung, drawn and quartered in Brazil by an angry mob of rhino's 2 years later. Apparently she had forgotten their gin.

So there you have it - the most traumatic and deadly period in natural Earth history in such detail that makes noncy soft-arse news blokes from elsewhere cry with fear. Many have tried to erase the great Volcano-Yeti-Earthquake disaster from history but all that serves to do is reduce the amount of crips that are eaten come new year. Remember, come a day sometime towards the end of the year that a longish time ago, aroundabouts then(ish), something happened. How could we ever forget that?