Sam Editorial: How To Handle HIGH Explosives Whilst Drunk Off Your Ass


Dear Reader, I can’t speak for how we got here. Whether it was a series of inenviable circumstances beyond your control or a series of mindbogglingly imbecilic decisions is your story to tell. All I know is that your situation currently is thus: you’re holding a detonator, booster, emulsion and cords and you’re so lit that you can barely see straight. 
The first step to you surviving things So the first thing you have to do is pray. Pray to whatever God you hold dear, because honestly you will need all the help can get. ‘Cause in case it isn’t abundantly clear, when the only thing keeping you upright is that you’re leaning on an apparatus that can blow up a house without breaking a sweat you need to seriously reconsider what you did to earn this so much negative karma. OK once you’ve finished praying, and I really suggest you don’t rush this step, you ought to spend a minute trying to focus your eyes. The first thing you gotta do is pick up your emulsion, that’s the thing that goes boom boom. Then put it back down you idiot, that’s the shit that goes boom boom. Then next up you’re going to put the primer on the blasting cap before you shunt the line, or shit do you connect it to the detonator. Ok definitely in some order, you’re gonna attach the probe to the emulsion. The probe being the thing  that looks the least likely to blow you up. Take a minute to vomit right now, because you’ll want all your dexterity with you as you connect the detonator to the fire line. What’s a fire line you ask and how do you get it, you’re on your own there, buddy boy. Around this point you’re going to have a moment of clarity as you ponder what you’ve created. Because you’re struggling to focus your eyes on the face of something that has the ability to change your location to multiple. This is about the time that you’re going to realise you just needlessly created a high-powered explosive  out of individually inert parts.
While you stare at this monstrosity, your bleary eyes wavering while your mind is adrift in a stupor, this is the point where you practice running away because despite not having enough functioning brain cells to know that calling your ex is only going to hurt you right now, you managed to jury rig a timer into your little home demolition kit out of a watch, an orange rind and a ticket to a Foo Fighter’s concert. Run! or rather Stumble!! real hard in any direction away from that blinking time-bomb. Curse the bitter irony that your first stroke of genius was a feat of drunken idiocy. Curse the fact that you never listened to the countless PSA’s about not drinking too much. Curse the fact that you weren’t born with the legs of an Olympic Sprinter or the mind of someone with an IQ larger than your age. But most of all you should curse  Sam Codrington, Editor for Golden Words, because you’re a just jealous of his mastery over high explosives and liquor. Hi there, I’m Sam Codrington, and were I to find myself in your inenviable position, which I never would, my first move would be to turn around detach the probe to the emulsion, not because I know what that does, but because no one edits these so I can never be incorrect! Hoo rahh! Anyways I’m going to cut of this needless ramble like a user-submitted Buzzfeed quiz, so I propose you get as far away from this page as you can. We’ve got a great paper this week, READ ON!