That Time I Ate Seventeen Raspberry Orange Scones In a Single Sitting and Was Subsequently Transported to a World Where There Was an Active Three-Pronged War Between Armies of Sentient Baked Goods That Was Eerily Similar to Romance of the Three Kingdoms and Was Acknowledged As a Respected Warrior-Strategist for the Scone Kingdom
I was your run-of-the-mill, bog-standard British bloke.
I was forty-seven, dropped out of Middlesex, laboured as a Tesco bagger, and lived out of my aunt and...
