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Fall into a classroom to ask directions to the flight deck, where we are delighted to find Megan.  She tells us that she has been studying Juan’s Special Reserve and has developed an efficient fire retardant; which will stop Juan’s seasoning overheating. I tell her that Juan is retarded enough.  This would be useful, Megan insists, as although the seasoning that Juan uses to keep his bagpipes supple is one of the essential ingredients in his Special Reserve, Special Reserve is also an essential ingredient in his bagpipe seasoning.  The proportions of seasoning in Special Reserve, and Special Reserve in the seasoning, are very important, she says.  Too much seasoning in the Special Reserve can result in people dancing dangerously enthusiastic Highland reels, sometimes in inappropriate places.  And this is why, Megan explains, with too much Special Reserve in the seasoning, whenever Juan plays a reel, his bagpipes explode.


Megan then takes us to see some of the whisky shells she has produced.  The shells, she explains, have been soaked in flame retardant and Juan’s Special Reserve.  They don’t explode on landing, she says, so they are harmless, but the fumes from just one of these shells will intoxicate a city for a week.  I say that they’re not exactly harmless as, if a shell landed on someone’s head, it would definitely harm them, and I ask Megan why we can’t just spray the Special Reserve.  She tells us that, delivered by spray, the Special Reserve droplets drift with the wind and, landing on agricultural land, mutate the crops and makes the livestock uncontrollable.  However, Megan tells me, each shell has been fitted with bagpipe drones which, on the way down, shriek like Juan playing a hornpipe, this makes most people run away and, as well as this, the shell emits such noxious fumes that, by the time it lands, most people are too pie-eyed to care if they are hit on the head.  Reassured, I thank Megan and we head on to the flight deck, reeling from side to side, bouncing off the walls and spinning around helplessly, we throw malt in all directions trying to drink to Megan and everyone who helps make things safer and more fun.  Now, hopelessly befuddled, rumbelowishly delayed and rustically behind schedule, crashing off corners, falling down ladders singing Catherine Ogie, Highland Mary and The Birks of Aberfeldy at the top of our voices, we stagger to the flight deck, as fast as we possibly can.

Professor Humperdink’s Diary