Postcards from Erasmus

A series of postcards from Erasmus the polydactyl cat, to his friend Aldo.

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Hey diddle diddle,

Erasmus on the fiddle.

The cow got lost in orbit.

Is that a dish, or Beagle 2?

Gizza quid!

Ooh, nice car…

Uuuppp!

Oh yes, happy birthday.

Thumbs up!

Erasmus.

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Wotcha Senor. We all decided that we liked New guinea so much that we dropped in again. Pleased to say that one tribe can now say “Howdy y’all” with quite a convincing accent. Chief here gave us a lecture on the irresponsibility of unfettered nuclear power, but relented when we gave him his very own torpedo. Just had a really good feast and now they seem to be putting up some sort of statue with big feet!

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Hey Senor - had to park the sub - wouldn’t fit down this canal so we’ve borrowed a narrow boat. Weather surprisingly sunny for Wales, Chirk sells good hot baps. Plans to ransack the castle treasury were thwarted by it being closed on Tuesdays… Erasmus.

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Well, it’s not as good as the Rolls, but we found this old Volvo with some money in the glove compartment and borrowed it. Funny place this, the heather looks like it’s been coloured in. We still haven’t found any clues, but we have managed to pick up a job lot of purple flares for bartering with. To blend in, Billy Bob is now cunningly disguised as a set of bagpipes. Erasmus.

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Well, Senor, that was an impressive ride. That car we borrowed leaves a trail of fire behind it when you accelerate and it doesn’t half shift. Met some kids wandering about here looking for someone called So-crates, but then a volcano went off (the racoons swear they didn’t touch it!) so we jumped back in the car and the kids jumped into a phone box (?!). Erasmus.

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Funny fellow that American back up in Scotland, seemed quite upset when we jammed him in a flase caber and propped him up in the gift shop. Bit of a squish getting all of us into the car - funny looking thing it is. The ducks are driving and they say… ah. It’s a deLorean. Um. Everyone hang on tight and remember where we parked the sub! Erasmus.

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Well, we can’t go much further this way, can we Senor? Unfortunately no answers to be seen - just sea, rain and a foul smelling old Scotsman trying to sell us dodgy haggis. Seems that no one else has come this far, but the sheep are telling me there is a strange American with a flashy car parked just down the road. Off to have a look. Erasmus.

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Just when I thought things couldn’t get any odder… After I last wrote we had a spot of bother when the faeries came and tried to take Billy Bob away (Lord alone knows why!). He drove them off with fluent frontier gibberish (and bourbon) but they managed to grab the caber, which exploded with ducks and frogs. I think they did some switching as I’ve never seen frogs with pointy ears before. Oh and one little faerie is still following BB around, They really are a rum lot. Erasmus.

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You meet the oddest people, Senor. I mean, why would someone leave when a man with his sheep-pipes, his caber-tossing sheep (with a quacking, croaking caber) and his pet wildcat stroll into town? We went and looked in the library and it said these stones were a place of mystery. Just seems a place of stones to me. Ah. Oh dear. I’ll get back to you… Erasmus.

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We had to abandon the Rolls, Senor - no money for petrol! We sidled onto a train instead and it brought us here. The sheep are very worried that they might meet their own ancestors, but we’ve still no idea why we’re in 1976. I think we should pop over to Anglesea and look for druids, but the ducks appear to be off collecting black plaster cats. Yours in confusion, Erasmus.

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Well, Senor, the expedition is going well so far. We’ve managed to get Billy Bob out of his Elvis disguise and he’s now nice and inconspicuous as a banjo-playing vicar can be. We’ve decided that this is 1976 - the sheep are having trouble with ladybird infestations and look a bit red. What’s  worrying is me though is that the frogs reckon someone is following us… Erasmus.

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A slight hitch today Senor - we were passing by when Billy Bob was mistaken for the local vicar and dragged in to carry out a wedding. All lapsed into chaos when he blessed them in the name of Elvis and kissed the bride. In the following brawl the frogs stole the wedding cake, we think the ring may be in a sheep’s afro and we’ve acquired a Rolls to travel on in. Erasmus.

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Definitely something odd going on, Senor. We sailed round the coast back to our start point and it’s not quite right… Mind you. the crew seem to be enjoying a return to the days of disco - the sheep have some serious afros going and you should see the flares on those frogs! We will investigate further… Erasmus.

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Aha, Senor - I am so cunning I amaze myself sometimes. Here you see my latest disguise to enable me to infiltrate  Scotland unnoticed (well, not all of it, I’ll admit). The frogs have built themselves a cunning caber disguise and Billy Bob is wandering around with a sheep painted tartan with its legs over his shoulder. Now onward to the highland games. Och Aye, Erasmus.

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Ha! Ha! Here you see Senor, what you were not expecting. This is the cunning disguise I have assumed to go forth and see what is going on. Good, eh? Sadly, my anonymity may be compromised by the fact that Billy Bob has produced a cunning Elvis disguise and the frogs are all standing on each other’s shoulders in a trenchcoat… Sigh. Erasmus.

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Here we see the twinkling lights of Adelaide, sparkling like stars… Shortly afterwards we caught a cable in the figure head, pulled down a flagpole, made a car swerve into a tanker, which overturned and filled a power station with treacle… Um, we may have to leave in a hurry… Erasmus.

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Hmmm, Senor, this bridge seems a little similar - I do hope it’s not really the one that caused all the trouble back in New York… We had to stop here for some foam - the kangaroos keep banging their heads on the ceilings. Erasmus.