This is Lightly Used with Adam and Carol.
So as you will notice things are a little bit different this episode because we're
not actually here.
No we're not.
We are off doing something brave and going to that London.
The big smoke.
The old smokey.
To see a Cheap Show live event as part of the Cheerful Airful podcast festival that
is hosted in London every year.
Our spiritual inspiration.
They are indeed.
We love you guys.
We do love you guys.
Clearly.
Yeah, sorry.
We are a love letter to you, we promise.
So the plan is we're in London and you are stuck with whatever Adam has cobbled together
for you.
Yep.
We're going to be meeting up with the rest of the Channel 84 family and hopefully some
more people from other pods and what I'm deeming a parasocial pod squad.
Yeah.
We're going to be meeting up.
So while we're away I've thought I'd compile all the Lightly Used news segments so far
into Turnip Tales, part one.
A whole lot of turnip.
This has been Dooming Rounds on the internet.
It's from the Abba Geveni Chronicle, Saturday the 9th of March, 2024.
OK.
7.54pm.
OK.
Is the time relevant?
No, not at all.
Met by Tin Butters, close encounters of the turnip kind.
Oh God.
An Abba Geveni man who headed to the Keepers Pond to catch a glimpse of the Northern Lights
last weekend swears down that although he didn't see the Aurora Borealis, he did make
contact with an alien life form.
I love that they've used the term swears down.
That is such a Welshism.
That is such a Welsh.
I love it.
I swear down.
It means that they really promise, really, really hard, as hard as they can promise anything
that they're telling the truth.
Semi-professional long distance runner, Johnny Turnip told the Chronicle they headed up
Glen Avon Road with his trusty Nikon F camera to take a few snaps of the otherworldly phenomenon
for a local Facebook community group page.
Yet upon arrival, he realised not only had he got the date wrong, but the two friends
he'd arranged to meet there were, quote, spitting feathers because they thought Turnip
had invited them to an all night rave as opposed to a heavenly night show.
Big Tony and Puerto Rico pulled their frothy at their mouth with rage when they realised
just how wrong they had got things, recalled Turnip fondly.
Bloody idiots didn't know what the Northern Lights were, thought it was a bunch of old
school DJs from Manchester putting on an event like it was 1989 all over again.
To make matters worse, they turned out like a white couple of kippers.
White gloves, whistles, bucket hats, dungarees, tie-dye t-shirts, you name it.
These couple of tarts were taking every acid house cliché in the book.
It's not healthy for men in their early 50s to be acting like that.
Still, it was good to see those two and speak in terms again.
Things turned sour between them after an incident in the Guardsmen in the early 90s over at
Baby Shamans and Questionable Sartorial Tri-Sis.
They finally buried the hatchet thanks to their shared love of dance music and strobe
lights.
Turnip told the Chronicle that after laughing at their collective idiocy and reminiscing
about the good old days over a flag and a white lightning, the three friends decided
to walk from the keepers to the top of the blorange and light a fire.
You can't beat a good fire on a cold night, topple mounting, explained Turnip.
Big Tony was mourning we didn't have any tyres to burn because he likes the smell and
they last a long time.
He soon chewed up when I told him I've got a few cans of deodorant in my rucksack, we
can blow them up if we get bored.
Anyhow, we got to the top and the all the faddle was laid out below us, all lit up like
a toy tent.
It was well depressing.
We started the whisky and the mood soon picked up, especially when Puerto Rico Paul started
to blast out the prodigies' no good start to dance in his portable ghetto blaster.
This is so Welsh.
I'm doing my best.
No, your accent is great but these boys, these blokes on the stories, so Valley boys, they're
so Welsh, I love it.
Definitely real.
I love it.
We were soon guzzling whisky like those energy drinks the youngsters are addicted to, screaming
like lunatics and dancing around the fire like three well-dressed warlocks.
We must have looked at the right state.
It was only then that we noticed the extraterrestrial.
Turnip revealed they noticed a bald-headed stranger sitting cross-legged on the edge
of the mountain, gazing intently up at the stars.
It was Big Tornio who noticed him first, explained Turnip.
He stopped dancing and snarled, who's a dickhead?
Tornio can be like that, he's got a good heart.
He'll never start a fight, but having said that, he'll never walk away from one either.
Personally, I knew straight away it was an alien.
I could tell by its posture and its sense of otherness.
I've always had a good read off that sort of thing.
As we approached the thing from the skies, Puerto Rico Paul was particularly cautious
because he claims he was once abducted by aliens and subject to all sorts of experiments.
But to me that just sounds like wishful thinking.
Anyhow, as we got closer, he was making this weird sort of ommmm noise and his eyes firmly
fixed on the firmament.
It seemed completely indifferent to our presence and even when Big Tornio shouted,
Where are you from alien? Kent is it?
The shiny headed creature just kept making this unsettling ommmm noise.
We held hands, surrounded it in a circle and Big Tornio asked in a slight age of hysteria
in his voice, From what distant galaxy have you travelled,
space thing?
Yet still it ignored us like we were nothing more than mentally challenged savages.
Turnip explained and suddenly noticed the intergalactic visitor was sitting in a circle
of toadstools and Puerto Rico Paul screamed, It's no alien, it's Twilith Teig.
Run before they kidnap us, marry band of brothers and force us into a life of servitude in the
fairy realms.
Turnip told the chronicle, We hothielded off the mountain like we were being chased like
Benny Hill himself.
Big Tornio tripped on his flares a few times but we made it back to the Keepers car park
in one piece.
We were all taught by Puerto Rico Paul's mother, who was known as the Witch of Tudor
Street not to mess with the fairies or the Twilith Teig as she called them.
She always said, If you ever come across a little folk, keep your distance.
I always thought she had some sort of weird phobia of dwarves but now I've actually met
a fairy I know better.
Turnip added, It was a strange unsettling experience.
I never expected to bump into one of them, the blorange, but life's strange like that.
Go for the lights, stay for the fairies.
Since his encounter with one of the little people, Turnip insists he's been brushing
up on fairy lore and believes if he catches one of the Twilith Teig, it'll grant him
a wish.
Good luck, Turnip said.
In hindsight, we were a bit rash to flee the scene.
It's sort of every day I come across a mythical creature who can grant wishes.
If I can trap and tame a fairy, the world will be my oyster.
With one wish.
We return to the Abagaveni Chronicle and Monmouthshire Beacon.
By Tim Butters, from Monday the 18th of March, 2024.
Monmouthshire man claims he has found the entrance to secret tunnel network.
For centuries, rumours have abounded that Abagaveni sits on top of a huge underground
network of tunnels that were once used by everyone from Oen Glyndur to sex-crazed monks.
Over the years, many amateur sleuths have attempted to prove that tunnels exist but
to no avail.
Until now.
Early professional long-distance runner, Johnny Turnip, believes he has found a portal to
the hidden realms of the town and it happened by accident.
Go on, Johnny!
I was trying to make contact with one of the Fairfolk where it happened, explained Turnip.
I know that might sound like the ramblings of Lunatic and once I would have agreed with
you.
However, after my encounter with a member of the Twilith Teig the other week on top of
the Blorange, I am one of the wide awake gang now.
I know these mythical creatures are real and if we'd attempted to catch it instead of
fleeing the scene in fright, we could have been kings of the world.
Fairies can grant wishes, see?
And now we know they're real, we're going to capture one and make it do our bidding.
Turnip reveals that alongside his brothers in arms, Big Tony and Puerto Rico Paul, his
first bid to trap and tame a Twilith Teig was a failure.
He explained.
We tried Big Tony's tactic of erecting this huge steel monolith-like structure on Hay Bluff
to draw one in from the enchanted realms and trap it with a fishing net.
We had spent a lot of time on top of Lord Hereford's knob as a young man and said there's
always been a lot of fairy activity in that neck of the woods.
Turnip added.
I'm not sure about the science behind it, but Big Tony said a lump of shiny steel would
prove irresistible to the little fork and he knew a builder's yard where some was going
spare.
Well, after carrying it to the top of the hill and getting it in the ground, we sat
there all night drinking white rum and waiting for something to happen, but all we got was
a big fat nothing.
We couldn't be bothered to take it down so we left it there for the locals to look at.
Not a lot goes on in Powys, so we thought it would give the natives something to talk
about during the dark nights and dull days.
Anyhow, once we left Bowen out of our country and made it safely back to the urban sophistication
of the Mardi, we decided to revert to Plan B in our bid to find a portal to the fairy
realms.
Turnip explained that Puerto Rico Paul's mother, Pauline, or the Witch of Tudor Street, as
she was once affectionately known, was well versed in fairy lore, and so they visited
her caravan just on the outskirts of Llanthany Priory for advice.
Ever since they cleared the sums, the witch left Aberan who's refused to return, said
Turnip.
She said it's been overrun by beatniks and amateur chefs and not the town she once knew.
She's lived in the caravan for years, giving tarot card readings to finance her chocolate
addiction and listening to Rick Astley records.
Failed with a gout apparently.
However, if you want to catch a fairy, she's your lady.
When we told her what we were planning, she was a bit dismissive and called us a bunch
of goons who had meddled in the higher powers, but it was her knowledge of the ancient ways
we wanted, not compliments.
Turnip revealed the three of them left the caravan armed with the riddle that if they
wait by the tree of winter blossom by the stones of poetry in the meadow of swans near
the river that named a town at the stroke of midnight, the oracle of spikes will lead
the way to the hidden realms.
I knew straight away where she meant, explained Turnip.
She didn't have to dress it up in such ridiculous language though, she could have just said,
go to the grass bit near the bus station and wait.
So that's exactly what we did.
Unsure of exactly what they were waiting for, the three friends huddled together in swan
meadows beneath the blossom tree and spent their time violently arguing about who would
make the best wish if they did catch a fairy.
Bird-o-Paul said he was going to wish for a time machine, revealed Turnip.
Apparently he wants to go back to the night the Beatles played Abba-Gaveni to find out
if Paul really is his father like he claims, I said to the Dorsetart.
Think what you'd have to witness to prove your dad is really a beetle, it wouldn't be
pleasant.
Turnip added, Big Tony had a better wish.
He wanted to be the owner of the biggest construction company in the UK.
It's a nice idea for a man with a strong work ethic but limited abilities like Torn, but
it stinks of a small town mentality.
When I revealed my wish was to become a god, you could see them growing suspicious.
Failing to think Big has always been their problem.
The three musketeers' reverie was eventually broken by a rustling coming from a nearby
tree and in the moonlight what looked like a small mythical creature appeared and made
tentative movements towards them.
Turnip recalled, Big Tony grabbed a net when it was about to pounce when Perto Paul screamed,
Leave it alone you big lump, it's a bloody hedgehog.
You can imagine our disappointment, explained Turnip.
We came for the wings, all we got was the spikes.
The hedgehog wandered by all brazen, giving us a contemptuous scowl that seemed to suggest,
not my circus, not my monkeys.
However, when we followed the oracle of spikes, we found something a lot better than the fairy.
We found the secret entrance to Abergavenny's lost network of tunnels.
No fucking way.
To be continued…
Nooooo, you can't leave it there, it's just getting exciting.
The ramblings of Johnny Turnip, man warns we should all be very afraid of what lies
beneath Abergavenny, by Tim Butters from the Abergavenny Chronicle on Monday the 25th of
March.
A local man who claims to have found the entrance to Abergavenny's secret network of tunnels
has since returned from that underground labyrinth with a fantastical story to tell.
Many professional, long-distance runner, Johnny Turnip, alongside his mates Big Tony and Puerto
Rico Paul, accidentally stumbled across a gateway to the tunnels during their quest
to trap and tame a fairy.
Turnip claims that after following a hedgehog he calls the Oracle of Spikes from the Swan
Meadows to the castle, hoping it would lead them to a fairy lair, they discovered.
The entrance to the hidden realms of Abergavenny.
Turnip said, if you think sticking to the 20mph speed limit is hard, try following an
hedgehog.
It's a slow and laboured process, particularly when you've no idea what it's leading you.
I don't know if you've spent a lot of time around hedgehogs, but they seem to have a
massive attitude.
It kept stopping, sniffing the air, turning around, giving us the eyeball.
Prickly customers in every sense of the word.
To make matters worse, three grown men intently following a hedgehog's single file through
the town in the early hours is good attract attention, especially with Big Tony's history
of vagabating.
Tony, I thought you were a good guy.
You got us all down.
It's a good job the police are either keeping a stern eye on their Twitter feeds or loading
up in Maccy D's or will you be nicked for acting like dickheads.
That's something that happened a lot back in the day, I can tell you.
Recalled Turnip affectionately.
Turnip explained that after about three torturous hours of walking like zombies in the hedgehog's
trail, it led them to the entrance of the castle and then shocked them all by simply
rolling on its back and dying.
Oh God.
I couldn't believe it, said Turnip.
We followed that bloody thing for hours and had the cheek to die on us.
Zero respect.
Jesus Christ.
Big Tony was fuming and went to kick it, but every living thing deserves respect so I carefully
put it inside a plastic bag and threw it in a nearby hedge.
Oh God.
Turnip added.
Now that the only lead to find a fairy was as dead as a duck, we needed to use our heads
and think on our feet.
Now soon after they began to argue over who was calling the shots when Turnip claims he
noticed a green light hovering over a patch of leaves inside the castle walls.
It was another sign from my ancestors, claimed Turnip.
It was like a will of a wisp beckoning it onwards.
So we scaled the castle walls like we were teenagers again, but with bigger bellies and
more mental health problems, and jumped down the other side to meet our destiny.
Sorry.
The bigger bellies and more mental health problems.
I was like, yep.
I think I might be Johnny Turnip.
Oh, I don't want to be big Tony now.
Can you be Birdie Rico Boy?
You've got a better name.
Never been there.
Doesn't matter.
Don't pick us either.
You might be from there.
Oh, that's true.
Or you might have a postcard.
He's got a fridge magnet.
He got a tan once.
Hard to do in Arbogafenny.
After arriving at the part of the castle where they'd seen the green light, the three friends
sunk to their knees and began to frantically dig at the ground in the belief they were
burrowing into the kingdom of a fairy.
We were like demented rabbits, recalled Turnip.
After getting about three feet down, Big Tony started muttering about how it was a lost
cause and he was ready to wipe out the whole of Llanfoyce for a good shovel.
However, Birdie Rico Paul spurred him on by saying,
Your old school, Tone, shovels are for lady boys.
We're mardy.
Now dig, bitch.
It did the trick.
Bit Tone pushed us aside, bellowed like a wild pig and set up the hole like a Jack Russell
with his blood up.
Turnip told the Chronicle, when they were six feet under, their raw and bleeding hands
hit something hard and unyielding.
Upon clearing the earth, they came across a hatch of sorts that was painted green and
had a brass knob and plaque inscribed with words,
Behold, you are now entering the gateway into the hidden realms of the Gateway to Wales.
Turnip said,
I'm no Shakespeare, but as inscriptions on doors into other realms go, it lacked a certain
poetry.
The wording felt a bit clumsy, to be honest.
Nevertheless, the hunt was on and with all three of us pulling on the big brass knob,
we gained entry quite easily.
I bet.
Behind the green door, the three friends found a spiral stone staircase leading deep into
the bowels of the earth.
Those steps went down as deep as the eye can see and sort of disappeared into the dark,
explained Turnip.
At first, we were all overcome with a sense of dread, like when you wake up and the cells
hang over with no memory.
Then had something resembling a panic attack and blurted out,
What if we never escape these tunnels and get to drink cold lager in the sun again?
But then Big Tony said,
Bugger it, if there's fairies down there, they owe us, I've come for what's mine.
Encouraged by Torn's you-dare's attitude, we merrily implored him to lead on,
and strode, or stepped tentatively because those steps were very narrow, into the great
unknown.
After about five minutes of descending into the pit of horrors, Big Tony hit another closed
door.
He tried to force it, but this one was locked tight, explained Turnip.
Raging against it for minutes, beating with his fists and headbutting it repeatedly,
Big Tony slumped to the ground with his head in his hands, and although he wouldn't admit
it, began to weep and repeat over and over again,
Dear God, what have I done?
I've only seen him like this once before, as when he lost twenty grand on the Grand
National,
Bert O'Rico Paul simply sneered and said,
Pull yourself together, Anthony, you're looking a bit flaky, son.
He then sparked up a fank, and the light from his Zippo illuminated a riddle on the door,
I wish we'd never solved, because what we found beneath Abagaveni will haunt me to the
day I die.
To be continued.
Aargh, always when he gets to the good parts.
I love these stories.
Man Urges Public to Keep Away from Abagaveni's Underworld
by Tim Butters in the Abagaveni Chronicle, Monday the 1st of April, 2024
A man who claims to have rediscovered Abagaveni's secret tunnel network is now urging people
to stay away after he and his friends made the discovery that will mess with your head.
Johnny Turnip, Big Tony and Bert O'Rico Paul explained that they set out to trap and
tame a fairy, but got a lot more than they bargained for when they accidentally found
the entrance to Abagaveni's underworld in the grounds of the castle.
Turnip told the Chronicle, At first, the riddle on the door leading the tunnels had
us all stumped.
It read, What is the name of the ancient tribe of Abagaveni, and what mythical animal did
they once worship in the deepest wild?
Spelled W-I-L-D-E.
Was it a hedgehog?
Turnip added, We must have smoked about ten fags each trying to work that one out.
Although I can name all of King Henry VIII's wives, now they died, and Bert O'Rico Paul
is something of a specialist on the life and works of German existential philosophers.
None of us are exactly history buffs.
Suddenly Big Tony surprised us all by shrieking, I've got it!
They didn't spell Wilde wrong!
They were talking about Marty Wilde from the song Abagaveni!
To be honest, I had no idea Wilde was spelled wrong, but then I'm not a reader like Tone.
When he's not busy digging ditches or drinking his body weight in lager, you can usually
find him with his head buried in Martina coal.
Turnip added, Thank God for Tone's Eureka moment!
We knew the lyrics to a song we'd grown up drinking fortified wine to by heart.
At one we chanted, The ancient tribe is paradise people, and the mythical animal is a red dog.
As soon as we spoke, the door slid open, and from somewhere inside, the song began to blast
out from some hidden sound system.
But this was something else, a real kick!
With Tony taking the lead, and merrily shouting, He who dares!
We began to descend more steps into a dark and dank tunnel.
Turnip explained, We all began to do a little dance as we walked.
Big Tony sort of raised his hand above his head, wiggled his fingers into this sort of
mincing movement with his feet.
For a big man, Tone's always been light on his feet.
It's what makes him such a good fighter and dancer.
But Eureka Paul did his trademark Axl Rose serpentine shuffle, and I just brought up
the rear strutting like John Travolta's character in Saturday Night Fever as he makes his way
to the dance floor to teach some punk a lesson.
Turnip added, That tune's a proper rapper!
Brynjems version's class, but Marty's is the real deal.
I once wrote to Liam Gallagher and asked him why he hadn't done a cover version of it,
but he never replied.
He feels he hasn't got the vocal ability to do it justice and was a bit too embarrassed
to say.
Nana Turnip, also known as Annie Horrorshow, once it played at her funeral.
Although she's got a reputation as a moody mare, behind the Venom and Spite she's got
a wicked sense of humour.
She wants an old fashioned funeral procession through the middle of town with horses, carriages,
the works.
She wants the march to start slow with a brass band playing the Darth Vader tune.
Then someone will get a black rock cock to crow by showing it a photo of Gary Barlow.
This will cue the band to start playing Abba Gavini.
Should be a great day.
Shame Horrorshow won't be there to see it.
Turnip told the Chronicle that once the song was over, the three friends walked for what
seemed like five minutes in complete silence, apart from Tony's laboured breathing, and
then the strange apparition blocked their path.
Turnip recalls, it was all fun and games until we saw what looked like a slightly overweight
male wearing tracksuit bottoms and a pair of beaten up Nike airs.
As a semi-professional long distance runner, I hate to see trainers that have lost their
integrity and box fresh appeal.
It kind of reminds me of the horror at the end of all things.
But that wasn't the worst part.
For some reason, this dude had decided to customise his look by wearing a knight's helmet
and some sort of medieval body armour.
He was also holding an axe but seemed kind of embarrassed by it.
Turnip added, he then said in a sort of voice you wouldn't usually find outside the panto,
Halt!
I am Gary the Grey, custodian of the gateway and keeper of the nine secrets.
These paths belong to another.
Leave now if you value both sanity and soul.
Turnip said, I always recognise a nutter when I see one.
This guy was having a major meltdown.
However I needed to tread carefully.
Big Tony's got little patience for dramatic types and if this athletic knight dude kept
talking like that he was probably going to get lamped.
So as a man of tact, I decided to take an innovative approach and play the madman at
his own game.
I said, let us speak plainly.
We've come to capture ourselves a fairy.
Now as soon as we have one of the little people in the bag, we'll be on our way.
He got all uppity at this, raised his axe and shouted, I am sworn defender of the Twilith
tag and you sirs are scoundrels whose foul taint I will cleanse the earth and other realms
of.
The foul taints?
It was strong stuff but our teachers used to say worse.
Either way, it seemed the time for talk was done.
Big Tony adopted his fighting stance and was about to kick off when Perth or Rikapool piped
up with, hang on a sec, I recognise that voice, it's Manny from the estate.
Almost immediately the athletic knight dude dropped his axe, took off his helmet and all
became clear.
To be continued.
Aww for god's sake.
Man admits defeat in his quest to trap and tame a fairy by Tim Butters from the Abogaveni
Chronicle on Monday the 8th of April.
After accidentally stumbling across Abogaveni's secret tunnel network whilst trying to enslave
a fairy, semi-professional long distance runner, Johnny Turnip has made the outrageous claim
that his old friend Manny from the estate has lived in the Abba underworld for the past
decade protecting the town from other realms.
It's not a well known fact but Abogaveni is the centre of the known universe, explained
Turnip.
And our old friend Manny from the estate has been keeping a lonely vigil beneath the town
for years, ensuring the world is safe from hideous entities from other dimensions.
Turnip added, It sounds like bottled insanity I know, but after myself, Big Tony and Puerto
Rico Paul bumped into some dude wearing Nike Airs in the tunnels.
The last person we expected to find behind the knight's helmet was Manny from the estate.
He called himself Gary the Grey at first, but Puerto Rico Paul recognised his distinctive
twang.
Manny disappeared from the town ten years ago, lazy Sue said she heard he'd moved to
Bracken, and when that happens it usually means something's gone profoundly wrong in
a man's life, so he didn't cry.
His best mate Farsteady was inconsolable though, they'd pretty much grown up in the same garden
shed together, and the thought of Manny reaching such a low point in life that moving to Powis
was the only answer was nearly too much for Eddie to take.
Turnip explained that once he realised the jig was up, Manny took off his helmet and
gazing fondly upon his old friends with bloodshot eyes, told his tragic tale.
One day he consumed a spectacular amount of magic mushrooms on the dairy and fell helplessly
into the fairy kingdom.
We nodded thoughtfully at this because we've all been there.
Only difference is, Manny decided to stay, explained Turnip.
The twilith tech made him an offer that if he worked for them as a sort of handyman in
the tunnels beneath Abba, he could live there rant free, and they'd provide him with all
the lager takeaways, internet, Netflix and Xbox One games a man would ever need.
Manny's only a human, and he jumped at such a generous offer.
He told me,
JT, I'd pretty much run out of road in the world above.
I was going nowhere fast.
I wanted to live a little and see a bit of the world, so I decided to take my chances
in the tunnels.
I've been here nearly ten years now, and it's a good life.
A man can get a bit lonely at times, but I try to keep active on the socials, and that
keeps me honest.
The job's very easy as well.
In theory, I'm supposed to stop unspeakable entities from using Abba Gavenia's portal
to enter the world and consume it in a never-ending orgy of violence and terror.
But apart from having us sort out some drunken leprechauns in 2018, things have been relatively
quiet.
Most of the work entails keeping curious visitors from Abba out.
There's been a lot of interest in these tunnels in recent years, and the last thing
my fairy overlords want is a never-ending stream of tourists visiting their realm and
hosting pictures about it on Facebook.
These tunnels are a two-way system.
Bad things from the land of fairy can use them to enter Abba, but Equilius' repulsive
lifeforms from the world above can use them to enter the home of the Teg.
So I'm afraid you're going to have to leave.
I know you wanted to take a fairy back with you, but it ain't happening on my watch, and
for all time's sake, I hope we can keep things peaceful.
Turnip explained that after a quick discussion with Big Tony and Puerto Rico Paul, the three
adventurers decided the time had come to call it quits.
They'd have to return home empty-handed, but as Turnip pointed out, it's not the destination
but the journey that counts, and our adventures in the underworld have taught us a valuable
lesson.
None of us can function very well after 24 hours without lager.
We need to get to the surface again and soon.
We were all dehydrated and bored.
Big Tony in particular was getting very tetchy.
The time had come to leave this stinking sewer system to the Fairfork.
After asking Manny the best place to exit, he led them to a set of steel steps that led
to a manhole in Cross Street.
Turnip explained, it seemed a bit tight on Manny to leave him alone in the underworld,
and Big Tony pleaded, it's no life for a mardy man stumbling around in the dark like
them all.
I'm going to have a pint with us Manny, besides which I always need a good labourer, and you're
the best shovelman I know.
There were tears in Manny's eyes after such unexpected praise from Big Tony, but his mind
was made up.
He simply looked at us like an acid house-rasputin and said, I've made a new life here fellas,
besides which fairies need me.
I've made my vows.
I'm the watcher in the tunnels, and my vigil goes on until I no longer have eyes to see
or hands to fight.
Turnip added, it was a bit of an embarrassed silence after the last bit of unnecessary
waffle.
Then I made the point of holding Manny's gaze and silently mouthed the phrase of semi-professional
runners and borderline alcoholics everywhere, go hard or go home.
It was an emotional moment, but I have to admit, it soon passed as I wrote, come on
boys, last one up, I drink all night.
We left Manny sobbing softly as we stormed up the steps, giggling and trying to elbow
one another out the way like out of control toddlers.
Yet, when we finally burst through the manhole and breathed deep of the night air and liberation,
little did we know what would be waiting for us to be continued.
Were the pubs closed?
The Abba-Gaveni man, claims secret organisation, have been monitoring his activities.
An Abba-Gaveni man, who claims he knows the location of the entrance to Abba-Gaveni's
secret tunnel network, has stressed he will take the secret to his grave after being threatened
by some mysterious and well dressed man.
In his fantastical quest to capture a fairy, because he believed it would make him a god,
a tiny professional, long distance runner, Johnny Turnip and his two mates accidentally wandered into Abba's underworld and
found our mate Manny from the estate, guarding the portal between this realm and the next.
When we realised Manny was employed by the Fairfork, some sort of guardian of the Big Door,
we decided to abandon our mission as a favour to our friend, explained Turnip.
Anyhow, when we fled the tunnel and berthed through a manhole in Cross Street, our hopes
of having a session back at Big Tony's were shattered when we were suddenly surrounded
by about ten men in beige suits and sunglasses.
No, I'm all for wearing shades, but it was about 3am with zero sun, and unless you're Bono,
that makes you slightly suspect.
Turnip told the Chronicle that the suited, booted and shaded men surrounding them, with
slightly smug expressions, reminded me of Ed Sheeran.
He explained that Puerto Rico poor broke the silence by sneering,
Who's this then, the men in beige, or the Monmouthshire chapter of the Rick Astley fan club?
Turnip explained, their leader got all stroppy at the dig and tried to come back all cool
with,
Well, well, if it's not Jimmy Parsnip and his two sidekicks.
But no one can match Puerto Rico poor in a bitch fight.
And as quick as a flash, he sniped,
There's no Parsnip here sweetheart, just a whole lot of Turnip.
They stumped the chap, they had no choice but to resort to brute force to restrain our wit.
He ordered his men to grab us, and though I could see Big Tony limbering up for a square
go,
I held my hand up to him as a gesture that said,
Not now, Tony.
12 on 3 is not good odds, even for a fighting man like yourself.
Let's go with the flow, bide our time, and seize the opportunity to launch a counteroffensive
when the time is right.
Turnip said,
It's amazing what you can say with that word, but me and Tony go back decades and can communicate
like wolves.
Turnip added, After they placed sex on our heads, but bizarrely
with eye-holes cut out through our eyes,
We were frog-matched towards the castle with two of the men in beige on either side.
As we walked, I asked,
So, what's all this about them boys?
It's been a long night, and we just want to get drunk.
Their leader, who introduced himself as Mr. Citizen, said as we walked,
We know what you clowns have been up to, Turnip, and you old abacus of any type are a threat
to the new town order.
You're not active on any Facebook community pages, and you don't wax lyrical about our
surrounding hills, nor do you drink all the price coffee, eat avocados, wear body warmers,
practice mindfulness, or even bake your own bread.
When was the last time you even had a gong bath for Christ's sake?
Abergavenny's been voted the best place to live in Wales by the Sunday Times, on your
antics letting the side down.
Your continued presence threatens house prices, and it's high time you were put back in your
bloody box.
We're a special group of gentlemen who've known about Abergavenny being the centre of
the universe for some time.
We also know about the tunnels and the Faerie Realms.
Yet every time we lift the manhole in Cross Street, we're greeted by a peculiar force
wheel we just cannot penetrate.
For some reason, you losers gain easy access.
Now you'll take us to the entry point of the Underworld.
From there, our specialist team of marketing and content strategists will use a special
mobile phone app in order to conquer the Faerie Realms.
We'll then use the hidden power of the Fairfolk to turn the whole world into a bespoken global
market town that will rule for all eternity as the International Community Council.
Turnip explained.
I could tell by the way he was sweating when he talked that this dude wasn't the full
shilling.
Too much time on social media, chasing the crackhead of Facebook likes that destroyed
his mind.
A night out on the lash would have done him the world a good.
It's sad, he and his mates will never appreciate the wrong path they took in life because they
were too busy dressing like dickheads, checking their emails and having conversations.
And they should have been waking up on the wrong side of 15 pints.
Turnip added.
As usual, me and the boys were outnumbered and outgunned.
But there's no way we were going to lead the men in beige to the lair of manny from
the estate.
We were all that stood between the twilight egg and these glorified ice cream salesmen.
From school till at all, and in Big Tony's case, the occasional spell inside, our entire
lives have been spent fighting bureaucracy, officialdom and nutjobs in pubs.
At times we may not have known what we were fighting for or why, but we got good at it
and that's a lesson these men in beige are about to learn the hard way.
Turnip said.
I was about to launch into the first line of the Porgs Waxies Dargol, which we adopted
as a fighting song in our youth and which would indicate to Big Tony and Puerto Rico
Paul that time had come for a row.
However, just as I was about to scream Shane McGowan style, someone dressed as a cowboy
and smoking a cigar came to our rescue.
To be continued.
Awwww.
What's a cowboy doing out at three o'clock in the morning?
Find out next episode.
Awwww such a tease.
Might not have been a cowboy, just dressed as one so far.
Aww yeah.
We hope you've enjoyed our first compilation of Turnip Tales and obviously full credit
to Tim Butters at the Abogavene Chronicle and Mom the Shabeacon.
You can find links to all the articles in the show blog for this episode at lightlyused.co.uk.
Normal service will resume next episode.
We promise we'll let you know what it was like meeting everyone from Channel 84 in person.
If there was depth, it'll be about two weeks removed from there.
We're probably going to be the very last to let you know about it.
Sorry.
And you can find and enjoy our fellow studio Channel 84 network shows, the variety show,
Untitled Trek Show and Who Takes the Socks Off at channel84.co.uk.
Adam and Karen have been lightly used.
Visit lightlyused.co.uk for more.
To get in touch, email pod at lightlyused.co.uk.
This was a Studio Channel 84 network show.
To find more, head over to channel84.co.uk now.