I don't really know quite how long I stood there in the freezing fucking rain waiting for the bloody cone faced monstrosity that vaguely resembled a pony to stop talking about how she was the best thing since sliced Jesus and simultaneously raping the entire concept of referring to yourself in the third person up the arse with a hedgehog, but it felt like approximately 7 years and a few days so in the end I thought to myself,"Right, sod this for a game of soldiers." And punched the bitch, at least I think it was a female, straight in the goddamned face, knocking her right out. Only then did it occur to me that we probably could have gotten some information out of her as to where we are. I would normally just tell you where we were right now, seeing as how this all happened a good few weeks ago, but I realised once I'd burned down half the place and missed the fucking Krypton Factor(By the way, spoiler alert) that I still didn't know what the place was called, so until one of you self righteous brony anuses scrolls down to the comment box and writes,"It's called rarararara you retarded faggot also I have never kissed a girl." Let's just agree to call it Skegness, because it was probably just as shit as Skegness.
Anyway, Bill reacted to my slugging the pony right in the chops seemed to be mild concern. oh wait, I've been reading the paper wrong, What I meant to say was if he had a knife or a gun or a fucking tesco bag for life he'd probably have used it to kill me right there and then, such was his horror and fury. He ran over to her side like the love interest in a Hollywood movie who brings Shia LeBouf back to life by crying and kissing him. while whispering,"I love you..." Then, once he'd made sure that I wasn't superman and couldn't kill a horse with one punch, he launched into some ridiculous tirade about me attacking,"The best pony." and condemning me for failing to,"Love and tolerate." In that instant I went through the 7 stages of grief in about 2 minutes before telling Bill, in a polite and calm voice that if he ever said something even vaguely related to that outburst I'd shove a croissant down his ears. At this point we both realised that there was now a caravan sitting in the forest doing absolutely nothing. We went inside and discovered that the caravan was capable of driving itself because goddamnit there's unicorns in this world so I'm not questioning a caravan that drives itself. At this point we both rode out of the forest gleefully reciting a typical opening to an episode of Top gear, or Fifth Gear if you're one of those tossers who's a nonocnformist just for the sake of it. Normally I'd break off at this point and detail some more of our exploit in quadruple bypass-land, but I'm afraid the pizza delivery bloke's just turned up and things just have to go on hold when there's a margherita waiting at your door. I'll try not to take too long.