The Sandwich: #338

The Sandwich


I have journeyed to the centre of the Earth and, disappointingly, there are no stop-motion dinosaurs or giant crabs or lost prehistoric tribes. All those films were lying to us. What there is, however, is a light. It's just appeared: a couple of flickering fluorescent tubes in a nearby window. A man appears with a set of jangling keys and opens up a rollers shutter. More windows; more lights, including a bright neon sign that reads: "The Centre of the Earth Experience." No, that's not quite right. What it actually says is: "The Cen r of th Earth E perience," because some of the letters are not working.

Well, this is brilliant - a visitors' centre. Just what this place needs. I waited a few moments to give them chance to open properly, then I went in. There was only one staff member - the same guy who had opened up. He was a bored looking bloke with long, lank hair, red-rimmed eyes and an extremely pale complexion, and when he looked up he seemed quite shocked to see me.

"One please," I said.

"One what?" he asked, extremely nonplussed.

"One ticket," I said. "To the visitor centre. For me."

"Blimey," he said. "A customer."



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