...and as all the world knows, the angle of the dangle is proportionate to the heat of the beat. And when you get that angle in your gaudily coloured shorts, then the Spheres are opened and from outside come the Elder Gods.
Outside being under the sea when you're having a bit of a kip, and some git starts falling into yer obtuse angles or ramming a ship up yer belly button.
Yes, we're talking that now legendary triplicity of angles befamed by He Of The Massive Hooter (and not she of the massive hooters, which is something totally different). Aye, people are legging it to Bermuda from the Cola Cabinet to escape his nasally symphonies!
And why is it a Triangle? Why can't it be the Bermuda Dodecahedron, which I thought was a water lilly type version of a Rhododendron, but there you go!
Perhaps it's them Space Monsters again, and like Crop Circles, they's mapping out shapes to tell us their wishes. So, here we have them painting out a big triangle over the deep blue sea...
...wait a minute! Let them abduct rednecks in woods, let them mutilate cows and nob Americans to create a superior hybrid race, let them build tripodic fighting machines and let loose the Heat Ray over Londinium...
...but they ain't getting their tentacular mitts on them blue triangles in me Quality Street!
And they can leave me Big Purple One alone an' all!
