Phil comes clean about how he came to be joyriding across The List's front cover.

It was the longest moment of my life. It was a beezer night, boys and girls, a bumper- whopper of a wheezer—beano time. Me and the usuals were doing a ton of pre-Christmas joy—riding, taking cars still warm, full of shopping and seeing if we could race them eight times around the StEnch centre, scoff all their cakes and sticks of rock and big bags of sweets, sherbets, meringue and fingers and have ’em back parked before their owners had noticed them gone.

The Nero-Bob is in charge of noting positions in the Multi-manyStoreys. He keeps them covered in his note-book which is all part of his disguise as a method man of the acting, which he is so method at he actually is one. This role he is up for now is Wallace in A Big Day Out (live action).

Pup-A is a pupil of his who is doing very well these days. Thanks to growth-inhibiting steroids and performance-enhancers like meperedine hydrochloride as well as the digital technology majority ~ he was able to play and get paid for playing 34 of the 102 Dalmatian puppies. Oh, my children, they make a mistake when they think us crimers have no sense of shame or interest for our chosen ones.

This ’moment long' I was heralding at the start has now w, been going on as long as it felt like at the time. I had pulled out the steering wheel. It came away in my anxious hands. Tiny pieces of metal amazed me as much as the young chap pulled through the air like a doll—kite by his father figure, dislocating his shoulder quite seriously.

lam sure now the wheel came out as we hit the poor skater. All I can remember thinking is how incredibly co—ordinated was his winter

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outfit. Of all I can see, he has socks, scarf and hat with the same stripe. His mother, did she knit? And even more, if it was not his mother, how close would you be to an aunt who still knitted for you and whose knitting you still wore? And even though it was unimportant, all I could think was 'pantsandvest-too?’ as his far-from-lifeless body flew over us.

The steering wheel is out in my hands and, for a second before I realise, it suddenly feels like the easiest steering; intuitive steering. Now as my movements record no effect on our direction, and the empty feeling of hyper- dread accelerates through the neurons, the lamp hangs over me as a mockery of the bulb- as-idea that I need now, and do not have yet.

Georgey Boy (to be read with a Welsh accent) makes sure we all have a suitable disguise, should there ever be any evidences against us. But this will be of no use because a huge crowd of Italian army officers has gathered and turns to eye-witness very accurately my

3 . “It”! I. Mm"? - ‘- " .--

Moby, Hogmanay

slaughter. Anyway, Nero-Bob will do all the talking-to-you-talking-to-me? should we get the busting off cops.

None of us can make up our mind about the baby one in the back: is he good or isn’t he? He can steal, certainly, and those around him do do well and profit kind reader, still here ~ and he is so massive in his self-effacement . .. it is just, there lingers a certain something that makes me doubt him during the runs.

It may be his flesh-tone, flesh-feel hooded top. He moans about Jesus and the emissions coming out of the back of the sled which he claims may kill as many as the actual collisions. Typical: he forgets the actual dead and concentrates on the hypo-thetical dead.

This run is different in that a car was not what we took, but a Mother of Slays, Some Sled, The Slayer, all-time best equipifications of any sled around: heated seats, high speeds and envied by The Clause from another dimension of tale.

In the moment still, Courtney the BackseatPine provides realistic all-around sound of the real thing using definitely only his own hands.

Perhaps there will be time to substitute

the merchandised Grinch that we stole into the driver’s seat. He could hairy

shoulder the blame. After all he’s done, the judges can take his other crimes into consideration... amateur reindeer cloning, theft

of all boys’ and girls’ toys, trees and ’Christmas’ in general.

Nevertheless, | know

something will happen, it

always does. Perhaps even in the next second, it always does. So, good joy and tidings and pies for a merry, very merry Christmas, crunchy and white for two thousand and one and all.

Moby, Courtney Pine, Boy George, Robert De Niro, The Grinch, a Dalmatian and Phil Kay on ice