From Goblin Horde Green
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We're driving to the market. The driver isn't doing a great job, we're going too fast and he's barely making any of the turns, we skim a traffic light and do a long skid backwards just missing a car. Look, I'll drive, I say, and we change places. Jesus, this steering is heavy, it's like driving a steam-roller. We ponderously turn towards our road. Hang on, what the hell? There's a saucepan lid on the top of the steering wheel, it's slipping as I try and turn. I take it off and underneath is a handle that's even harder to turn than the saucepan lid. We arrive and park up, to go to the lower levels is an armchair escalator, I sit down and promptly fall asleep, dreaming of falling through the sky, until I'm woken up by my friends, wedged in the machinery at the bottom.