Outside the door I was kicked, hurrying me in. In 1915 I found myself drunk outside Burgundy with a bad case of TRENCHFOOT!!! I grabbed a plant pot and went to fight a duck, which turned out to be Johnny Fritz the German!! It was about this time I developed my intense dislike for ducks, expressing my feelings in a poem.
I walked into a fence and was knocked unconscious. I stayed that way until the next day, Saturday, March 23rd, 1957.
It was around this time I met Daryl in World War I. He stuck people's heads back on their necks, a skill that would undoubtlessly come in handy in our future adventures, where I tried to see if my head would really be forgot if it wasn't screwed on. Luckily it shouted as I was walking off, and Daryl stuck it back on.
We soon found ourselves in Holland eating jam stolen from Hitler and the Bolsheviks during the Great Waar of the Jam between Greece and Italy. Unfortunately a duck stole my jam, leading me to chase it down a forest. I never saw Daryl again, though I heard he became the Wild Man of Borneo, stealing underpants off explorers.
I came out of the forest in Bognor Regis, where I discovered I had become very old. The locals, who had never seen an old person before, made me their king, bringing comely wenches to my treehouse of triumph, and building me a bath of boiling jam from where I could hit ducks with my peashooter.
