Part 2

(Part 1 below)

I awoke in the forenoon, pulled on my robe and sallied forth into the kitchen where I found my friend quite naked save for a pair of the most threadbare of undergarments. It appeared that he had emptied most of the contents of our Frigidaire into a heavy bottomed skillet and was wielding this in a most alarming fashion over an intense flame.
"Spot of breakfast?"
I would have declined anyway but I must confess that the sight of him attempting to remove fallen ash from an egg yolk did nothing to improve my appetite.
"Suit yourself."
He shrugged and quite spectacularly broke wind from both orifices simultaneously. His delight at the accomplishment of this feat was not, I am proud to reveal, in the slightest degree infectious.
"My engagements. Do remind me."
"Well, you did contract to provide the Badger with a phongraphic recording of a Dr John recital."
"So I did. Fuck, fuck and thrice fuck. Much as I am loathe to disappoint, That will remain a set the Badger will have to live without for a few days. Gonads and possum droppings."
"Have you given any thought to our means of transportation?"
"None whatsoever. Minutae are your department."
"Well, there is the problem of the proximity of the available stations to our intended destination to consider; the 1745, whilst being an express, would involve a disembarkation at Balatonszentgyörgy whereas the 1857 would..."
"Bugger that. We'll take the motor."
My eager anticipation of the journey was thuswise brought to a sudden and abrupt halt. I always find it exceeding difficult to take in the pleasures of the passing countryside with both legs and arms constantly braced against the eventuality of sudden impact and even 'Frank's Wild Years' played at excrutiatingly high volume is seldom enough to completely drown out the anguished screams of unfortunate pedestrians.
So it is to spare your sensibilities that I will gloss over the journey and resume the narrative at 2045 on Thursday evening as we negotiated the junction of the two major westward highways into the capital.
"Ah, Gazdagrét...there we go."