Interlude: Flight of the Bubble – (and ‘Flying’ by The Beatles) [NOTE: No Pikes were harmed in the scribbling of this drivel].

[‘Flying’ from The Beatles’s ‘Magical Mystery Tour’ is playing in the ethereal background as the lager bubble, containing our heroes - plus the cyclist and a 20lb pike, floats to another era. Inside the bubble, each of them is floating around in a weightless atmosphere. Just like the spacemen from Apollo, well Apollo anything really…]

“Being in here, listening to ‘Flying’, floating around, kind of reminds me of the ‘Space Bouncer’ that we used to get excited about when we were kids and came to the seaside,” said Duggie’s mate.

“What, you mean that orange and white sort of enclosed-bouncy-castle thing that they set up on the beach?” said Duggie.

“Yeah, you me and my cousins jumped about in that thing for hours until our feet were black (because you weren’t allowed shoes and socks in there)” said his mate, “and we were red and sweaty and ready for an ice cream.”

“I remember thinking about that bloody thing as soon as we hit the motorway on our way down – literally 5 minutes from home,” said Duggie.

“But you’d already polished off the sarnies by then…” said Duggie’s mate, completing a back-flip, just like disco dancer used to in the ‘70s, only they had gravity to contend with.

“Why didn’t it float away,” said the cyclist, attempting to slurp a line of Red Stripe that was floating past, he missed, “I mean, it was on the beach, that bouncy thing, so why didn’t it just float away? What did they tie it to?”

“I don’t know,” said Duggie’s mate, “that’s a really good question.”

“I really dig flying,” said Duggie, “one of my favourite Beatles tunes as it goes. I love the funky, twugging bassline…”

“Twugging?” said Duggie’s mate and the cyclist in unison.

[…gasping for oxygen] “Hey, you guys! Are you nuts?” It was the pike.

“Yeah, twugging,” said Duggie, “that kind of blobby late-‘60s, high-up-in-the-mix bass sound.”

“They used to use ‘Flying’ all the time on the telly, like when there was a documentary with hot-air balloons in it,” said the cyclist.

“I don’t remember many documentaries featuring hot-air balloons,” said Duggie, “I remember that Nimble bread advert, but that used different music.”

[…sound of heavy gill-movement] “Hey! I’m drowning here!” gasped the pike, “stop talking rubbish about music and GIVE ME SOME WATER!”

Duggie turned and gave the pike a Paddington Bear-like hard stare: “Listen, mate,” said Duggie, looking straight down his own arm as the pike was still attached to his fishing line, “this is ‘Me and Duggie Chop Talk Music’ you know. It’s kinda what we do here: talk crap about tunes we like.”

Duggie continued: “Before I was interrupted by our fishy friend, I’m also into the ‘stylophone-esque’ keyboard tone and the ‘la, la, la, la, la chorus on Flying.”

“And it’s only about a minute and a half long, amazing,” added Duggie’s mate.

Meanwhile, the cyclist was emptying the contents of a six-pack of 500ml cans of Red Stripe into a fold-up camping-style water-butt that he’d just pulled out of his rucksack, “Bung the bugger in there,” he said, belching, “that’ll sort him out.”

[So, Duggie, his mate, the cyclist and a soon-to-be drunk pike continued on their journey to 1982. Who’d have thought that you could ‘boldly go’ (that’s a reference to Star Trek rather than an unintentional split-infinitive) so far in a bubble of lager? And they say there’s no chemicals in it…]

“Don’t forget,” said Duggie’s mate, as the bubble floated out of sight, “the Walrus was Paul.”