A transpontine game of Mornington Crescent

A self-appointed guardian of wittism approaches me. “Wolfie!” he chirps in an overly friendly manner, “Fancy a game of Mornington Creasant?”

“No thanks brother. I don’t suckle the enemy culture teat.”

“Oh, spoil sport!” he wanks on. “Too much ideology, not enough funny.”

“The two can be accommodated.” I informicate him. “Mornington Crescent: The Transpontine Bus Stop Edition…”

And so the game began.

G.

B.

J.

R.

D.

B.

You’ve already had B!

No, that was the E&C B.

K.

F…

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