Chatting with Ibrahim and his family, we tell him that we are heading for Humperdinkadad, but that we are cataleptically behind schedule. Ibrahim invites us to join him, as, he says, he will be passing near Humperdinkadad. The road is very busy as a lot of agents are attending the Humperdinkiog, but, fortifying ourselves with Balblair Special Reserve, Glenrothes Private Reserve and vintage Dailuaine, and drinking toast after toast to the health and happiness of Ibrahim, his family, and all who traverse these empty miles, we endure the traffic. Now, singing, dancing, and teaching Ibrahim’s children appallingly rude sea shanties and horrifying Glaswegian football songs, we head down the
Unknown Highway, as fast as we possibly can.
Professor Humperdink’s Diary