Monday, 21 July 2008

Lair of the Bloodsuckers


From Journal of Valentine Suicide 19th July 2008

Have now left the safety and security of my beloved Staffordshire into the peculiar landscape of Shropshire.  What manner of creature exist in this godforsaken place.  My fiancee is travelling with me.  I'm inclined to wish I'd left her behind.  A sense of foreboding fills me, what dangers await us at our destination?

We approach Castle Visionsavers and Count Optometrist.  Our coachman will only take us far as the car park, I sense that he may fear Count O, but Madame S assures me that the coach won't fit through the shopping centre's doors.  The stories of decadence and bloodsucking told in the dark creepy Inn last night do not seem so amusing in the bright clear sunshine.

We enter the maze, follow a handy 'This way to Castle Visionsavers' sign and soon find ourselves at the gates.

Various shadowy shapes lurk in the shadows of this brightly-lit colourful den of inequity.  moving with the odd lurching gait of the seasoned money-grabber.

Immediately one of them lunges for my wallet, but the plucky Mam'zelle wards the fiend off by brandishing a 'free eye test' voucher.  It hisses and retreats into the shadows to lurk with some others of it's kind.  These must be the less powerful Dispensing Opticians.  "If that had been an Opthalmic we'd be two or three hundred quid poorer now!", Mam'zelle breathes.

She's spoken too soon and I find myself face to face with Count O.  I can barely stand his fetid, slightly minty breath and the evil stench of pleasantly scented soap.  "Don't look into his eyes!" cries Mme (why not? He looked into mine.  With a shiny lighty stick).  It's too late, he is holding me rapt in his evil gaze.  I must hand over eighty quid for 'extra thin lenses'  I must have a forty quid anti-scratch coating I must have anti-glare for thirty notes I  must have photochromic lenses (and frames) AND I must have them done in one hour (a tenner).  I can feel my bank account being drained.  Mam'zelle breaks the spell with the magic incantation "WE'LLHAVELASERSURGERY!! and" drags me outside.  We will return when it's dark, to continue our search for Evil Count O's licence to print money...


Next week, our intrepid duo drive a stake through a Vets heart before he can say "Is the animal insured, sir?"


Ishouldbeworking said...

Bet they're black rectangular frames.

Valentine Suicide said...

remind me to tell you about 'the second pair'......

BPP said...

Who cares what you've got to say? I don't, not when there's a car to be won here instead. That's right, Valentine's three readers, a fucking car.

Terms and Conditions apply.

Dominion said...

Damn adverts! I only mention that because, (as I was reading this entry), that damn Muller advert kept bugging my grey matter, (due to the fact it is made in Shropshire).
I suggest an embargo on the purchase of this milky product. It prevents one from enjoying the ramberlings of a fellow blogger!