The Chronicles of Pantmania

Whilst others were digging their toes in golden sand and smothering themselves like beached whales in the southern sun, I had the delightful pleasure of visiting Cambridge. My boyfriend and I were sightseeing around the “do-not-step-on-the-grass” area somewhere at Cambridge University and suddenly we ended up in front of a door the size of King Kong’s six-pack. Giving each other a childish glance we agreed to open the door expecting to enter a wizard’s house. (I assume they always have huge powerful doors) What turned out to be behind the door was as boring as their “do-not-step-on-the-grass” sign, and we found ourselves awkwardly standing in a church with the sound of King Kong’s six-pack smacking shut behind us. Extremely devastating when we have prepared ourselves for a sight of magic dust, spells and goblins.

A few tourists’ were looking at the art in the church, but there was this one man who was appreciating it a bit too much. He was a spitting image of what a typical librarian would look like, the only difference though, was that he had a lust for art (or the act of pressing his camera button) like Russell Brand has for women during a dry season. Every time he took a picture he panted loudly as if he peeked into a sexual release. The acoustics of the church surrounded us as he tried to out-stallion I-don’t- know-who. Flash after flash went off and we heard him breathe rapidly in short gasps, after exertion of taking a picture. I felt like I had opened the door to Narnia, but that goat man was replaced with some other interesting creature that gets off by taking pictures. WHO DOES THAT?

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