Err...
Maybe they cannot find this well-hidden spring of secret knowledge? Well, not yet, anyway!
I remember a certain Dane, yclept Eric the Red, staring up at me, equally short of temper and short of stature as he was, when I noticed that he literally had gin leaking out of his beard! There I had fancied myself as some sort of toper but I suddenly realised that next to this Scandihooligan I was a mere stripling youth of no consequence whatsoever.
Stand by for some wild stories when the truth of pay and conditions begins to bite, the late-model E-series Merc company car unmasked as a Bajaj three-wheeler and the deluxe accomodation with pool shown to be an Ikeja hovel with a pool, yes, but just a pool of rainwater on the living room floor.
Never mind those migraines, Harry, when Eric Bloodaxe massages your bonce with a war axe improvised from a bottle of Gulder.
Graculus, I did once go to see Hamlet performed at Elsinore (Helsingor). Does that count for anything here?