From: andrew john richardson Subject: Smile :-) Owing to underwhelming demand Smile Central Control offers you hours of trainspotting delight with FALL SONG TITLE STORY. Just replace the asterisks with the missing Fall song title and complete the stunningly exciting tale. The titles are by and large as they appear on the album credits. Smile Central Control is considering a suitable reward for the saddo who gets it all correct. I was hitching in Croatia. I was on the outskirts of * opposite a run-down **, loads of factories and *** warehouses. Soon enough a large truck pulled up. I said to the driver "Which direction are you heading? I want to ***." He replied "****, lots of sun and wine, hop in." I did just that. I noticed he had crutches in the cab. "Are you OK?" I asked. "What's your name?" "**" he replied. "I was in an accident down South, It happens alot to us **. My buddy wasn't so lucky." "How is he?" I said. "He **, ***" was the reply. "I'm ****, glad to be back on the road." He put a tape on. It was ** Woman. He then shouted into a mouthpiece "Breaker nine-o, Hoppy the Horny Buffalo, over." He smiled at me. "***." The Doors continued in the background. Four hours later he dumped me in the middle of a faceless, sleepy German town. I needed somewhere to sleep. I had to ***. A haggard old man pushing a supermarket trolley full of rubbish bags and papers stopped me and demanded pfennigs for bratwurst. I wouldn't have given him ice cream for crow but I asked the ** where the nearest cheap lodging house was. Reluctantly he pointed over the road to the ** next to *** diner. I went in, checked in and took the lift to my room. The room was in pitch darkness. I struck a match. There were ** in the room just black candles. I fired up the candles. There was little furniture and a mouldy smell. The walls were damp and the * was peeling. Faded portraits of Wehrmacht officers festooned the walls. I wondered **** pictures. I wondered why the candles were black. My imagination ran riot and I became a little *. I hadn't met Satanism since I'd been in Accrington and encountered ***. I needed entertaining. I'd lost my Swans tape and Kinky Friedman omnibus somewhere on the road. I was beginning to feel like a ******. But there was satellite TV. Salvation. I tried MTV. Just Macca's * and Burden's *. On the sports channel I got the boxing bout between a 60s American record producer and an English vicar. I could only stand a few seconds of ***. Then came the Irish soccer manager complaining bitterly with vitriol about his team's performance in a recent match. ** was certainly annoyed. I flicked over to an episode of Batman who was fighting the * for the thousandth time. The arts channel had little to offer except a reading of Blake's * and a production of Marlowe's **. I listened to a few bars of Verdi on ** station before trying CNN. There a little fellow in a white dress in a bubble car was making the sign of the cross. Yet another ** to some godforsaken country. This was followed by a Hollywood star's hitching ceremony. I could stomach little of ***. The movie channel had two thrillers back to back but I had nothing to munch for this ***. A severe thirst was upon me. I located the ** and rang 0 for reception. The bar was open. More salvation. The guy *** was tanned and dressed only in barbeque shirt and shorts. His surfboard was leant against some empty crates. They get everywhere, more bloody ***. I'd never get a tan like that. As with most of my fellow countrymen, ***** drink too much and go prawn red and blister. "Where are you from?" I asked nonchalantly. "*" came the curt reply. I ordered a bottle of **. I liked the label, an electric storm, a conductor and the Beatles' Rubber Soul cover. It did the job. I tried to strike up a conversation with the bar person but talking to the guy was like getting ***. I downed two more shots before heading off to play the flippers. The damned ** was broken. One of the guys gambling in the corner introduced himself as ** and invited me to play. I poltely declined but the ** seemed a bit put out. I returned to the bar and bought a vastly overpriced bottle of New Zealand chardonnay. I'd just started the ***** when the barperson shouted "**" I took the bottle and glass out into the *. In the moonlight I looked across to a large field. It was a **, with fine antlered specimens majestically strolling under the autobahn flyovers. As I dozed off I could see a fox and * sniffing around the hotel's trash cans. I had wierd dreams. I dreamt I was on the Bunnymen Porcupine cover somewhere in * in * on top of an ice cap interviewing Sir Edmund *. The next morning I * at six to the sound of ** chickens being fed. I had an argument with the proprietor over the price of the room and the noise of the chickens. He told me to ** and **. What a * I thought. I did as he suggested and left. ** onto the road I espied a young woman with books under her arm approaching me. "**" I said. "Where's the best place to execute autostop out of this hell hole?" She replied "See that gaudy art nouveau Catholic church down the road?" "You mean that ** with the ** dressed in leather smoking crack sat on the steps?" "That's the place." As I was about to cross the road a ** leaned out of his car and asked if I wanted a ride. In a flash I decided to abandon the autostop and opted to *** to Hamburg and try my luck on a UK bound freighter. The driver was a Gastarbeiter. "I'm an **, I support the mighty Hibees and if you give me any trouble I'll tear your head off." He gave me a wry *. With * like this who needs enemas I mused. **... is the moral of this little tale. If you think you've got a correct version send it to Smile Central Control NOT the list Andy Richardson, Trinity College, Dublin (Andy.Richardson@tcd.ie)