The Trumpton Chronicles -survival

evening all,

Only seven of us survived the plane crash.

Battered and bruised, tattered and torn and the three of us.

It became apparent from the various injuries received and the bloodied state of our tax returns, none of the seven of us were particularly magnificent.

So we shot tattered.

This brought our number down to six, however as we don't like to keep secrets and torn felt strongly undecided about which direction should take, 

we shot torn as well.

The five of us plodded on through the freezing chill of a cold Arctic winter,  which surprised us all as we had crash landed in a jungle.

Bruised decided that if we were to survive this ordeal then a set of rules were needed to stop anarchy ruling. it was pointed out that we thought it was a man called Trump, not a lady called Anna Key, but bruised was adamant.

Annoyed with his introduction of unnecessary name changes and mumbled snatches of "stand and deliver",

we shot bruised too.

battered felt that we should support bruised's notion of a set of rules to live by, and immediately wrote some in the sand.

His first one was a comedy line intended to make us all chuckle,
"Freedom of Speech " we think he said, but we shouted at him until we couldn't hear him and he stopped.
then came "we should have the right to bear arms", intrigued by this we picked up some sticks and clubs and beat him to death with them, then for good measure,

we shot battered as well.

Then buried him next to a dead, armless bear we had just seen, with his pokey pokey stick raised high to the sky to remember the fallen, and conduct electricity for the telly.

onward we go.

night all