My lovely black robe was stolen the other day. I left it sitting around in the Dancing Goat while I went to scrub my armpits and when I got back... well, there was a robe there, but it wasn't mine. Some nasty bugger had stolen my nice Robe of Visalius (or whatever it was called) and left in its place some pathetic POS semi-black Robe of Uncool Dorkiness.
Personally, I suspect the barber.
No way was I going to wear a Robe of Uncool Dorkiness, so I blackmailed the Beard into helping me obtain another quite nice black robe. Not as nice as my original one, but you just can't get decent black clothes nowadays. They seem always to come with some other nasty colour like blue or red or green. I mean, how can a rock star be cool if he has to wear partially black clothes with blue trimmings? Right, I agree. It just so totally doesn't work.
But wait! There's more. I point the gentle reader to the picture on the left, which demonstrates, in a way that will put a shiver down your spine, the perils of hair tonic abuse.
Just say no, Boys and Girls, just say no.
Once normality was restored (relatively speaking, of course. It's BBB we're talking about) we went on A Road Trip. Now, my Fool has learned from his children that this is something you do to be cool. Doesn't really matter where you go as long as you can tell everyone you are going on A Road Trip.
Well, since I set the Bree Cool Standard, it was time to act. Heigh Ho, Heigh ho, it's off to Isengard we go, la la la. We loaded up our horses with ale, pipeweed and tater crisps, turned the music up really really loud (as all good music is), and toddled off.
And doesn't it look pretty! By the way, in case you weren't sure, the white rider on the left of the picture is facing away from the viewer, and that is actually the horse's arse, not Beor's face.