Saturday, March 27, 2004
We've just got back from a trip to Chislehurst Caves - a man-made labyrinth built by Druids thousands of years ago, where people sheltered during the 2nd World War. A very dank way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Still, at least we didn't have to spend endless nights there, unlike the unfortunate people of south London in the dark days of the war. Apparently, a woman was born down there and christened Cavina. Sensibly, she changed her name as soon as she was able. She's now called Pothola.

We were shown round by an intensely-irritating hybrid of David Brent and a Hobbit. He spent the entire tour cracking jokes about child blood sacrifices and saying things like, 'It's amazing, guys, that the Romans built this deep well without machinery - just tools... I mean, they, like, made it with their bare hands.' I think he'd spent too long beneath ground because he had moss growing on his chin.

Halfway through the caves he asked for volunteers: 'I'm going to leave you here and take your lanterns away so you'll see what's it like to be left in pitch darkness.' He left Butter, I and a few other brave souls behind while he led the rest of the party a short way away, It was indeed very dark. Then we heard a loud 'Boo' as he reappeared and flashed his torch, which immediately went out again, leaving us in darkness once more.

'Oh shit,' he said. We chuckled nervously. What a prankster.

'Oh shit. I mean...oh shit. I'm not joking. I'm afraid my torch has died. Er...'

So there we were, stuck in the blackest, deepest darkness you've ever, ahem, seen with a subterranean moron as our leader.

Fortunately, this is the age of the mobile phone: we all took our phones out of our pockets and used them to light our way back to the others. God knows what we would have done without our phones - ended our days as bat food, probably.

BTW, I lied about the Pothola thing. Her name is actually Rose.