The Children of the Night
22 miles north west of Oxford on the A44, the Hotel Bartone. Catherine Compton’s fantasy wedding is interrupted by a devastating incident that begins with a scream, pauses to stop at a dead waitress, and ends up with us chasing some kind of wild beast across the Hotel’s golf course.
Posted on 13 June 2006 in Podcasts | 1 Comment »
Goodness Gracious, Great Halls of the Hotel Bartone
22 miles north west of Oxford on the A44, the Hotel Bartone. The location for every young woman’s fantasy wedding reception, and for many young men, too - let it not be said that they favour one sex over another.
As episode 3 opens, it appears that Catherine Compton is about to enjoy every young woman’s fantasy. And yet, comme toujours, it’s all going to go to shit. Yes, that was a swear.
Posted on 6 June 2006 in Podcasts | 2 Comments »
The Hotel Bar Owned by the Hotel Bartone
22 miles north west of Oxford on the A44, the Hotel Bartone. A sprawling Elizabethan mansion which serves as an exclusive getaway for both the jet-set and more discerning of the middle class alike.
In this episode we induldge in that most English of pastimes; knocking back a few pints in a pub before heading off for a curry. Bob Marley will make a guest appearance.
Posted on 30 May 2006 in Podcasts | 1 Comment »
It was 3am and the clubs were empty. In the Goat’s Head the landlord was bedding down for the night, but there was a rumbling in his belly that would not let him sleep comfortably.
Indigestion? A bout of food poisoning from the 13 Bay D’Espoire oysters he’d consumed that night on an extravagant binge of shellfish?
Or was it, perhaps, the knowledge that he had, knowingly, with malice and in full control of his faculties, brutally slain his wife of a dozen years and encased her remains in a real ale cask in the cellar?
A loud and violent fart confirmed it was just indigestion after all.
Posted on 28 May 2006 in Musings | No Comments »
Welcome to the Hotel Bartone
22 miles north west of Oxford on the A44, the Hotel Bartone. Not to be found on any maps, nor in any guidebooks; not promoted in advertising nor listed in Michelin. And yet impossibly famous.
Join us as we check in to this exclusive establishment and, over the course of the next few weeks, take a journey through the hotel, learning something of its past, its present and, perhaps, what fate has in store for its future.
Maybe, perhaps, what fate has in store for all our futures.
Posted on 22 May 2006 in Podcasts | 4 Comments »
you bum too flappy?
you do big crappy?
try lemon juice if you too loose
it very tarty
it stop you farty
Posted on 22 May 2006 in Musings | No Comments »
Old Flopsy Wopsy, mortua est. Flopsy nibbles on a lettuce. Flopsy nibbles on a carrot (his favourite!) Flopsy done a poo on the berber carpet in the kitchen - naughty Flopsy! White as the snow, red eyed as the dawn, Flopsy bedded down in straw, close and latch the hutch’s door.
Dead rabbit. Dead bunny. Shrouded in sack-cloth and thrown in the canal.
Posted on 22 May 2006 in Musings | No Comments »
This was truly an enormous bagel. Truly, truly enormous. If it was any more enormous the very definition of enormity would have to be redefined to scale back the previous definition in order to emphasize the relative disparity in size between this bagel and something that would have previously been defined as “enormous”. That’s how enormous it was. Pretty fucking enormous.
And cinnamon raisin, too.
Posted on 22 May 2006 in Musings | No Comments »