While walking in the lake district with my older brother and being under the influence of alcohol, consumed the previous evening, i found that the slippy trainers i had on allowed me to fall at regular intervals. Although this resulted in considerable discomfort it gave me great pleasure to see the looks of disgust on the faces of the "prepared walkers" who scowled at my inappropriate footwear, of course it didn't help that i had a t shirt on and it was snowing. my brother had a quite brilliant idea to leave the track and follow his own obviously incorrect route which resulted in us sitting on top of the wrong peak. We then found ourselves lost on a river bank surrounded by muddy bogs. Images of rescue services racing to the scene and newspaper articles about the stupidity of city walkers crossd my increasingly numb brain; with this in mind we decided to jump a gorge; the rational being we would rather die than suffer the shame. Luckily we made it and due to this success have decided to cross the pyrenees on stilts carrying a tray of custard pies smashed out of our brains.
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