I AM YOUR FATHER GWYNETH

TREVOR IN THE DESERT

Trevor the Tartan Tortuga

I have no idea what this is supposed to be.

There are some things that displease me.

Caesar salads and their dressing
whippersnappers
licorice
Miracle Whip
Healthy Buffets
The Brady Bunch
sausage and sauerkraut with mashed potatoes
plaid golf pants
football
car alarms
butt cracks with saggy pants
breaded tomatoes
That song
the phone
bowl hair cuts
bangs on women with pointy eyebrows
8 shaped heads
dull orange
public restrooms
bears
Huge slobbering dogs (I hated Cujo so very hard.)
Kimmy from Full House
sports
V8 (I liked it one day but only one day.)
stew
stringy roast

Everybody should have a board with a nail in it.

SILENT WITNESS

I once  appeared in an episode of Silent Witness as "murder victim 2". I had to lie in a boat pretending to be dead while Emilia Fox poked a forensic thingy up my nose. She was supposed to discover traces of blood on the boat's gunwales, but it was obvious that there was also blood coming from my nose.  Yes, I was having another nosebleed and E. Fox was directly to blame.

MISSING CAT

 

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An incident

Once I was called to an incident in Boolaville. Some wombats were rampaging round an amusement arcade. That was their idea of "amusement".
They took the owners hostage and demanded a helicopter to take them back to Orstralia.
I had to stand down because I got a nosebleed.

Glen Runciter here.
I fought against the wombats in the late 70s, flying from makeshift airstrips in the jungle. It was about that time I started getting my nosebleeds. It is high time the public knew what scurrilous little bastards they are.
Wombats that is, not nosebleeds.