On a cold but Brain’s fuelled lunchtime, a good international (can’t remember who won, but then I had been drinking^*) we went out into Cardiff for food and frivolities. On our return, an abandoned shopping trolley was discovered, and into it climbed Mr Trippas, in the view of most people, a sensible option in the light of his inevitable inebriation and hence delicate grasp of gravity and the ground.

The power houses of the pack decided it would be an excellent way for him to get back to our salubrious accommodation, and would save the cost of a taxi, so they proceeded to push him up hill. However, as they too had oversampled the local beverages, when the ramp into an underground car park crossed their path, the trolley took on a life of its own, aided by Keith Brierley his erstwhile mate, and accelerated downhill towards the barrier.

Jiff struggled manfully to raise himself out of the trolley but was absolutely stuck into place, and faced imminent disaster as the closed barrier got closer and closer to him. He screamed as he tried to make himself smaller but salvation miraculously appeared as he and the trolley weighed as much as a small car. As the barrier rose he went sailing through the gap (probably the first one he has ever done) and calamity was avoided to be replaced by humiliation and mirth from those still sober enough to appreciate the irony.