Hurdy Gurdy man had fallen upon hard times. He was now reduced to walking round the main path of the forest, offering to sing to passing tourists for a quid. Then someone told him he could earn more busking on the streets of a place called Nottingham.

But he knew that was a lie. The people of Nottingham are notoriously resistant to that kind of trick, since 84% of the worlds beggars used to live there, until the council trained them all to work as traffic wardens and gave them the power of the parking ticket. Now no-one has any money to pay singing beggars, but the coffers of the council automobiles dept. are said to be bursting at the seams.

However undeterred by the rumours he set of sack in hand for Nottingham with big dreams ablaze in his mind, for he was the Hurdy Gurdy Man, and couldn't possibly fail.

As Hurdy Gurdy man walked through Sherwood Forest he grew tired. He reached the A60, and decided that the magnificent horseless chariots that roared past him were a wonderful way of travelling into the city where he would make his fortune, so he stuck out his thumb and waited... and waited... 

After three hours had passed, and the Hurdy Gurdy man had been splashed many times by cars driving through puddles next to him, he decided to write a song about this interesting experience.

"The Cars keep on passin' by, them trucks they ain't stoppin',"
"An' i'm gettin' so dirty, can only be cleaned by Mary Poppin"

Right then, Mary Poppins appeared on horseback.
"Want a ride into town Hurdy Gurdy Man?"
"Feck off", intoned the Hurdy Gurdy man.  "I'd rather walk then get on that beast with you, you witch."

So Mary Poppins, keen to jam with the Hurdy Gurdy Man and his song of love, enquired as to whether he knew how to play the double bass.

"No", he spluttered, "but I blow a mean trombone".  So he whipped out an enormous, gold-plated blankety blank cheque book and pen. He signed Mary Poppins up to play in his band, the aptly named Purdy Hoppins Experience.

Elvis the Manatee heard of this new progressive rock outfit and swiftly made his way to Nottingham to add his vocal musing into the mix, however, he was worried that Purdy Hoppins experience (hereby known as PHE) would be lacking that certain je ne ce quois. If only someone could guide them. At that moment, as he pondered by the road side, stroking his manly sideburns, Elvis was visited by the ghost of buskers-past. None other than the spirit of Xylophone man himself.

He said, "I know of a great band. They're called Holsten Nazis and I just joined them in sprit. We've got a great sound, sort of post punk rock with a hint of kiddy xylophone. I think if the Purdy Hoppins experience joined us life (or the afterlife in heaven for xylo) would finally be complete. We could be called the..."

But before Xylophone man could answer, the Holsten Nazi (as if conjured by invocation) arrived at their sides. Lead shouter Dustin proclaimed "Hold on there now" in an extraordinarily bad Australian accent. "The Holsten Nazi don't mix with anyone, least of all a bunch of tramps and witches.  Now move on before we challenge you to a scrap in the square." 

So PHE decided then and there to gun them down in front of the Westside bar. There was blood pouring down St. James's Street, turning the ice and the sludge a depressing deep red. PHE sighed at the sight and decided to head for the cookie club.

When they got to the Cookie Club they found themselves at the back of a long queue. 'I fucking hate queues!' murmured Mary Poppins, as the red mist began to descend once more. So she opened that magic umbrella and they all flew to the front of the queue. Then she pulled guest list passes out of that magic bag and hey presto, there they were, dancing to In Between Days by The Cure. Suddenly, a full can of Red Stripe came flying straight towards PHE, which Elvis caught between his teeth.

"Oi! Dickhead! Did you throw that?"

The awesome singing manatee hoisted himself to his full height (which isn't much) and began snorting quite madly! To everyone's surprise, with an almighty sneeze a small baby Jesus came flying out from the humongous nasal cavity of Elvis the Manatee. But baby Jesus just took one look around the club, cleared his throat and shouted 'You're all a bunch of wankers', Took an enormous shit in the middle of the floor, and left mumbling something about crap hairstyles.

Mary was somewhat embarrassed by little baby Jesus, and began to turn a plastic bag inside out over her arm. As she daintily squatted by the steaming shit, someone shouted "Late Post......Evening Post".

The Evening Post's Headline read: Gun Crime Rocks Nottingham again.

Jolly modern pop-punk band, the Holsten Nazi's, were gunned down this evening in the city streets. DC McSweeney of Nottinghamshire Police stated "This was a pointless act. Everyone I speak to is confessing to the crime, with some glee."

While all this was going on Jesus and Elvis the Manatee were having a can of pop outside and deciding what to do next...


Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

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