An Ordinary Saturday Night – VR Style

Attention all Bakers. I heartily recommend you all have a go at this interactive game of skill and cunning. It is based around the premise of walking a girl home, and I’m sure you will all agree that it recreates that “end of the evening” scenario with unerring realism. Indeed, it takes Virtual Reality to such new heights of accomplishment that tomorrow you will probably remember the game-playing experience as if it really did happen to you. I’m sure Alaric in particular will agree that this game pretty much 100% recreates his Saturday evenings.

You will have to sit through an advert before the Virtual Reality experience really takes hold, and the prudish among you are recommended not to embark on the experience.


Now I want the Bakery to recreate this with Tom German.


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  1. Alaric

    It appears, i am utterly shit at this game for the following reasons:

    1. Her appalling acting made me loose interest in her
    2. I couldn’t face following the normal generic bloke etiquette so did the following for fun:
    i. Took a shit, and got kicked out
    ii. Played Jungle on the iPod, and got kicked out
    iii. Used the shitest chat up line, and got the door slammed in my face

    I think the Tom German game would involve the following prompt: “Tom starts to discuss wizards, what do you do?
    1. Try to kiss him, in an attempt to shut him up.
    2. Tell him you don’t like wizards
    3. Elaborate on his points, by jointly creating a surreal feudal system by which wizards can marry elves on the 2nd friday of each month, whence the wind blows north-easterly and the dragon Elrock is down the Horse and Crown having a jar of dwarf ale with the man from the inland revenue adverts.

  2. All I’m saying is the Tom German game would be called “You’ll Always Be Alone”

  3. p trig

    That was cool. In my experience being as inoffensive as possible to women doesn’t really work, but I’ve never met kayleigh and i guess being surrounded by the types who work at nuts would probably leave you craving the subtler gent.

    And buck up al. All women are 95% acting, and theres plenty of time for jungle when they arent around. Follow my guide:

    Mr. King nervously fingered the crisp edges of Kayleigh’s magazine; each turning page coursing electric anticipation through a denim-restrained shaft. Page 19: and there she lay – gorgeous Nuts stunner Miss. Pierson – alone in unblemished clotheslessness; her pert, compact arse steadying King’s nervy gaze. So truly she was a glamour model, no less than her claim on their homeward journey. Having already enthused at her beauty, these pictures could only enforce such convictions, and indeed Alaric King’s growing arousal. Alaric – a virtuous, respectful man – had never been one to bullshit or ‘chat up’ his way to pretty broad’s bed. A lover of arts, wines, soul music.. and yet something now just didn’t sit right. This magazine; this ‘Nuts’ magazine – he again flicked to the cover, analysing that ugly term – was this truly a work of edgy, creative journalism and glamour photography; or was it instead a contemptuous orgy or crass generic blokeisms and photomanipulated skankfestations? Before any real conclusion could be drawn, however, Kayleigh reappeared; now gone her subtly appealing jewellery, her enticingly playful top; replaced instead with a brash ‘Nuts’ branded number. Led to her bedroom, in promise of “the real thing” (Alaric noting he’d never heard the word’s G defined so strongly – indicating she was either quite classless, or putting on some appalling act) King was left in horror as Kayleigh disrobed, looking somewhat like some giant plastic strawberry; before forcefully offering the chance to take photos; presumably to show his pals. If only he’d remembered his HD camera; at least he could’ve captured some footage and salvaged something from this Godless ordeal. Yet a 4megapixel cellular is all he was carrying; and respectfully he snapped away, promising himself he’d bury the SD card upon escape. It was in this moment Alaric King realised the world was a truly repulsive place. When, two days later, Nuts Magazine photographer Phil Boyd rang Kayleigh Pierson to book a shoot, there was no reply. She was discovered strangled a week later.

  4. Alaric

    Mr Triggs,

    You are a literary genius.


  5. Dan the fire Fryer


    Al never marked the spot he buried the SD card, but some say that to find it, one must simply look for the patch of bare earth where life refuses to grow: repelled by the depravity buried just beneath the surface.

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