On the last day of Woodford my camping neighbour gave to me…
“Woodford
plumber
Smelly no. 2
Shook his hand”
Below is Graham my neighbour and his truck Emily who we camped next to and kindly helped us with all the manly camping things we didn’t know how to do or had forgotten.
“
Anyway here is the 35th story:
The air was thick, almost unbreathable. Horrors rose up from the porcelain valleys that day. Rumour had spread of one man who might save the surrounding community. When he arrived I noticed his weapons were small and underwhelming. But he fought bravely, plunging straight into the beast and cleansing the area of evil. When he came out I thanked him on behalf of the Woodford people. I shook his hand and felt a warm sticky layer between our hands; the last remaining remnants of that frightful mess that lay beneath the seat. All hail the man they call “the Plumber”.
freyawrightbrough 