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Wow! You must be psychic, Danvzare. It turns out that the courier is indeed Hermes.  .

They have changed their name to Evri, now, because the company was getting such bad reviews. However, it doesn't seem
to have made the slightest bit of difference to their service.

I am glad to hear that you had better luck with AliExpress and are pleased with the figurine.

As I am still getting nowhere I will be requesting a refund, from Zavvi. If they continue to use Evri, as their courier, they
will lose trade.

As far as I know, Danvzare, the Hero Quest game I ordered, should be sent from the UK. I have no idea who the courier actually is
because it doesn't say.  I ordered from Zavvi because the price was half the recommended amount. 

I have not heard of AliExpress, but will check it out.

Hi, fellow AGSers

Has anybody here had the misfortune to order goods from an outlet called Zavvi. I ordered goods a month ago, and I think
my eagerly awaited parcel is on a round the world cruise or, more than likely, languishing in a warehouse somewhere.

I am constantly fobbed off with various excuses, and have just about reached the end of my tether. Their customer feedback
is practically non existant and I get the feeling that they couldn't care less. 

I shall be asking for a refund, but I am wondering if that will ever materialise.

Definitely a case of CUSTOMER BEWARE!

Thanks for the heads up, Frodo.  Love the word FREEBIE! Have downloaded and will play this afternoon, abw.

Thanks, Baron.  When I read 'Well Done' it made me feel like I was back at school, and had been patted on the head by my favourite English teacher.   

I now know that my efforts weren't totally in vain.   

CONGRATULATIONS, Mandle. A well deserved victory. 

Now let's discuss my story 'SNOW WAY!' ("Do we have to?" I hear you cry.)  How many of you picked up on the following:

First verse of carol - 'Good King Wenceslas looked out' - Kingsley West (Same initials) looking out of his car window at the snow.

'On the Feast of Stephen' (Boxing day) The banquet arranged by Steve.

'When the snow lay round about' - Roundabout where accident occured.

'Though the frost was cruel.' - Kingsley wondered if Steve Frost was being cruel, making him leave his cosy penthouse.

'When a poor man came in sight, Gathering winter fuel' (wood) - The poor man had a petrol can grasped in frozen fingers.

The second verse tells of Wenceslas talking to his page about the peasant, asking about his lifestyle. - In my version, Benson,  Kingsleys Chauffeur,
questions the lowly individual, then passes on the information to his employer who, then, wants to know the man's lifestory.

The third verse mentions wine. - This became Brandy.  It also talks of Wenceslas and Page going forth together. In my telling, three people, finally, went forth together.

The forth verse begins 'Mark my footsteps good my page, tread thou in them boldly.' - Kingsley, chides Benson telling him to follow in his masters footsteps and be kind
to those less fortunate.

The fifth verse ends. 'Ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourself find blessing.' - Kingsley had blessed his new found friend, and had been blessed through his charitable donations

I reinterpreted the Carol, as required, so obviously it didn't pan out exactly the same.

PHEW!  I rest my case. 

In the words of a spiritualist medium "Is there anybody there?"  I sent my votes off to Baron, yesterday, because the winner of the latest FWC will be, supposedly, announced today.
Sinitrena has been the only one to review and make comments on the entries
Wearing the hat of a critique is not my forte, because I'm scared of hurting peoples feelings. I will just make a couple of comments though.

MANDLE: You old romantic. I liked the similie to the Milky Way being the soaring ceiling of the chapel, and steps through virgin snow the train of the wedding gown. Your whole interpretation
of the song 'Winter Wonderland' was excellent.

STUPOT: Telling the story in the form of a letter was unusual and very good. It made me laugh when I read the paragraph  about using arteries to make a handy ribbon to wrap the heart.
Also, blood on the floor meant you'd had a good Christmas. I think Wham would have liked your version of 'Last Christmas.'

SINITRINA:  Your offering about 'Rudolph, The Red Nosed Reindeer' was well told and a certain amount of research had been undertaken. It seem to me, though, that you followed the
original words of the song rather than reinterpret them.
Thank you for taking the time to comment on my entry. I know it was a bit on the short side, but I felt I had written everything that needed to be said.  There was no religious meaning to the
story it was simply a play on words. ie. 'When the snow lay round about, became a roundabout. 'Gathering winter fuel, (wood) became a guy with a petrol can.

Best wishes to one and all.

SNOW WAY!

It was Christmas. Wrapped in an expensive overcoat, Kingsley West snuggled into the leather seat of his, chauffeur driven, Rolls Royce. He was to be guest of honour
at a lavish banquet, arranged by his business partner, Steve Frost, to celebrate an extremely profitable year on the Stock Market. The event was to be held at Musgrove
Hall, some twenty miles away.
As Kingsley gazed out of the car window at a curtain of white flakes floating by, he couldn't help but wonder if there was a cruel streak in Steve.
Leaving the luxury of his penthouse apartment, in Mayfair, on a crisp wintry night, had not filled him with enthusiasm. Now, in his sixty fifth year, the cold chilled every
bone in his ageing body.
Swishing wipers interrupted his thoughts. Even at high speed they struggled to clear the windscreen. Deep snow made road conditions hazardous and although he had
complete faith in his driver, it didn't stop him from feeling anxious. Glancing at his Rolex watch, he noted that it was seven forty five. Since setting out on their journey
not a word had been spoken. Kingsley broke the silence. "Time is against us, I am afraid Benson. We only have fifteen minutes to reach our destination."
"Don't worry, Sir." Came the reply. "I know of a shortcut, which I will try."
"Thank you, Benson. Anything you can do will be much appreciated."
Suddenly, there was a loud bang and the Roller skidded to a halt.
"I'm sorry, Sir, but my idea didn't work out too well. The car hit a patch of black ice. We are stationary in the middle of a roundabout, with a badly damaged wheel. I
will have to notify the breakdown service. We could be marooned here for a while."
Before Kingsley could answer, there came a tapping on his window. A more unlikely happening  he could not imagine. Who on earth could it be?
Benson, braving the cold, stepped out of the vehicle. He returned moments later. Through chattering teeth, he explained, the best he could, that there was a scruffy
man outside with a can clasped in his frozen fingers. Apparently, this lowly individual had run out of petrol, on his way to visit his pregnant wife in hospital, and he
shared their predicament in that he was stranded.
"I'll send him away, shall I, Sir?"
"No, no. I shall not hear of such a thing. We must help this poor soul."
Opening the car door, he invited the shocked man inside. He, then, poured a glass of brandy, from the mini bar, and handed it to his guest.
"Now, please tell me all about yourself."
Hearing a heartbreaking tale of woe, the listener was nearly reduced to tears. Tycoons have the reputation of being uncaring and ruthless, but this
did not apply to Kingsley. Charitable causes were always uppermost in his mind. Many of them had benefited from his generous donations, and were eternally
grateful for his support.
The breakdown truck finally arrived and rescued the hapless travellers. Kingsley vowed to aid Peter, his new friend, in any way he could.
The banquet turned out to be a no show, on the guest of honours part, but this did not bother him because he had done a good deed.
Kingsley was a good man, if ever there was one.

Spoiler

Inspired by the carol 'Good King Wenceslas.'

[close]

What a clever idea, Mandle. 

Stupot, yours was puke provoking, but made me laugh  Actually, is there more to this than meets the eye 

What I would like to know is where have Sinitrena (Usually the first to post)  Baron and Repi gone ? 
You were certainly quick off the mark, EjectedStar. Very good story, again 

[Down Down (Deeper and Down)]

                                                                          Down Down (Deeper and Down)

On the deck of HMS Ambassador, Bathyscaphe Neptune was being prepared for its maiden voyage, to the Nirvana trench, deep in the Equatorial Ocean.  Watching on, as technicians and engineers carefully examined the impressive craft, was Commander Rhys Edwards.  Tomorrow, after passing final safety checks, the exploratory mission would be given the go ahead, allowing him to pilot Neptune.

In the meantime, all Rhys could do, was resume normal duties.  Born into a family with a long Naval history, the sea was in his blood.  Career choice had been a foregone conclusion.  At twenty eight years old, he had rapidly risen through the ranks, which resulted in a lot of responsibility being placed on young shoulders.  He took to the job like a duck to water.  Veteran Officers, who were advocates of the older and wiser rule, often questioned his leadership skills, making life difficult.  Whenever stress levels were rising, a visit to the Ship's well equipped gym always had a calming effect.  This is where he was headed, now.  Working out sculpted a well proportioned body, while clearing the head of day to day clutter.  Clean shaven, boyish, looks easily attracted female attention, especially when in uniform.  Unfortunately, he was married to the Navy.  They stood no chance.  That night, Rhys slept soundly.

The next morning dawned bright and clear.  A shower was followed by a light breakfast.  Wiggling into a tight, all in one, biolite suit, specially designed to constantly monitor the health of the wearer, was a challenge.  Over this body stocking, casual clothing was worn.  Full military regalia would be totally inappropriate.  Visiting the bridge, to liaise with fellow Officer's, he was pleased to hear that there had been no dramas to report, during their watch.  He made his way to the deck.  Looking out at a calm, flat, sea he felt relieved.  Ideal conditions for the launch of Neptune, home for the following two months.

Submersible technology had advanced, in leaps and bounds, since the first quarter of the twenty first century, when a catastrophic disaster was threatened, due to vast amounts of plastic contaminating the aquatic environment.  World governments, recognising the need for urgent action, cast aside petty squabbles, agreeing to pool resources and scientific knowledge , in a concerted effort to resolve the problem.  Underwater craft fitted with equipment to suck, filter, chemically treat and neutralise this disgusting waste, were invented.  The clean up operation took twenty years, and was a complete success.  A meeting of minds, led  to a meeting of oceans.  Hence the Equatorial was formed.  Legally binding documents, were signed, stating that all countries shared access to this water way.  Depths exceeding 35,000 feet, the previous record, were soon broken.  It was estimated that the Nirvana trench could be at least 40,000 feet. 

Although there was adequate room for a three man crew, inside the the two storey conical craft, standing vertically, Rhys had opted to make the dive alone.  Extensive training, in the handling of Neptune, was a great confidence booster.  Enjoying his own company had never been an issue. 

Gathered to greet Rhys was a party of well wishers.  There was much hand shaking and back patting.  Jake Simmonds, stepped forward.  "Good luck, mate.  You lucky bastard."  Rhys laughed.  Relinquishing command of Ambassador, to his second officer, he said "Take good care of her for me."  Climbing into the hatch of the craft, he settled into the comfy seat at the controls.  Powerful winches lifted Neptune over the side of the ship and into the water.  Firing up the engines, he began the downward journey.

A slow descent offered ample opportunity to marvel at the healthy, diverse, fish population.  Whales were plentiful, and judging by the young swimming along by their Mothers, breeding was going well.  Dolphins, naturally curious creatures, found the craft carrying its occupant, interesting.  Peering through the windows, they excitedly clapped their flippers and clicked a greeting, transmitted by the speakers.  Great enjoyment seemed to be gained by circling and gently bumping Neptune.  Sharks were a bit worrying, canned food sprang to mind.  Colourful coral reefs, and seaweed forests, were a photographers dream.

So awe inspiring were the sights that Rhys had no time to think about nourishment.  Perhaps if the menu was more cordon bleu than cordon bleugh, he would have looked forward to meal times.  Packs of a specially prepared sloshy grey substance, fortified with vitamins and minerals, really didn't do it for him.  At night, Rhys transferred to the sleeping compartment, where he read books, listened to music and played video games.  He slept blissfully.

By the start of the second month, he began the descent into the Nirvana trench.  Signs of life were few and far between.  The darkness was oppressive.  Even powerful lights did little to pierce the gloom.  Cataloguing new species was important at this depth, so he hoovered up likely looking candidates and stored them.  According to the readout it was Thursday 27th June 2052.  Down, down, deeper and down he travelled until, eventually, Neptune touched solid ground.  He had reached the bottom of the trench.  More samples would be needed, but that would have to wait until Friday.  It was bedtime.

A violent lurching of the craft awoke rhys with a start.  Scrambling down to the lower level, trying to collect his thoughts on the way, he peered at the controls through bleary eyes.  There were no malfunctions or software problems.  The gyroscope mechanism should have kept Neptune in an upright position, but so forceful was the pressure exerted, by what Rhys assumed to be a strong current, the craft tumbled along, uncontrollably.  He now knew how his undies felt in a household dryer.

Luckily the sturdy restraints, anchoring him to the seat, prevented him from being tossed about and sustaining serious injury.  Rhys decided there was nothing he could do, but sit back and hope for the best.  When the tumbling stopped, he heaved a sigh of relief.  Attempting to focus on the view outside, all that could be seen was churned up sediment and plant material.  He then realised that the craft was teetering on the ledge of a sizeable opening.  "What the heck?" he questioned aloud.  "Surely it doesn't go down any dee....."  Before Rhys could finish the sentence there was a sucking noise, as if a plug had been pulled from a bath and Neptune was descending at unprecedented speed.  'Danger, danger'  warned a disembodied voice, accompanied by a shrill alarm.  "You don't say" hissed Rhys.  The depth countdown also flew by.  At 53.000 feet, he passed out........

.......  Rhys was standing at the easel, in his studio, painting a picture.  Unsurprisingly, it was a seascape.  Every brush stroke had been a labour of love.  When it was finished, there would be a place awaiting on one of the walls in his house.  There was always room for one more.  Turning away from the easel, he crossed the room and went out the door.  Dwarfed by a vast glistening cavern, it was obvious he wasn't following the mantra.  It reminded him of when he had first arrived here.  "I am Angelica and this is The Kingdom" had said a kindly voice.  No, not said, but telepathically relayed.  We have welcomed many of your kind, through the ages.  Rhys had only just regained consciousness and was confused.  He wanted to answer his host, but didn't know how.  stories about subterranean aliens, for want of a better word, had been told for years.  It would now seem that it was fact rather than fiction.  This being, although human like, was definitely not of our world.  "See what you want to see.  Be what you want to be"  The words played in his head, over and over.  Angelica faded away.  He thought of Bywater the town he had always loved.  He thought of the home he had grown up in.  He thought he would like to be an artist.  All these things came to pass......

........In 2080 a ship, navigating the Equatorial ocean, happened upon debris floating on the surface.  Hauling the offending flotsam aboard, a close inspection was carried out, producing startling results.  After cleaning the barnacle encrusted, mangled, wreckage the name Neptune emerged.  Human remains were found.  An identification tag revealed the name of the individual as Commander rhys Edwards, who had been reported missing, presumed dead, in 2052.

A well deserved win, RetroJay.  You've certainly set the bar high for future entries. I think I might have to duck under it. 

There are some things which really don't need to change, because they are perfectly fine as they are.  As far as I'm concerned AGS is just dandy the way it is.
It is user friendly and I know just where to access everything.  I get fed up, in everyday life, when packaging on products change, not because there was anything
wrong with the original but the newer version, in their opinion, looks better.  The amount of time I have wasted scouring shelves in search of my favourite chocolate
bar, only to find it has been repackaged is ridiculous.  I am interested in the contents NOT the packaging.  The same rule goes for AGS. 

Really like the secret vote feature. I hope this will encourage readers, who haven't actually entered the competition , to award points. There was a better turnout this time and I hope this continues.

I will be taking the plunge and submit my votes, shortly. (abw) 

Your story is both humerous and sad, Mandle.  You do have a way with words. If nothing else you should receive points for the effort you put into it. 

Thanks for your kind words about my limited offering.

STARMAN

On the 6th February 2018 Elon Musk, a man of vision and owner of SpaceX, launched the Falcon Heavy Rocket from Kennedy Space Centre. The payload, a Cherry Red Tesla Roadster, mounted on the rockets second stage, acquired enough velocity to escape Earth's orbit. Starman, a mannequin dressed in a spacesuit, occupied the driver's seat.

Three years have now passed.  Car, and driver, continue their ongoing voyage, without actually going anywhere.  'Fuck me, this is boring,'  thought Starman. Then he thought...'How come I'm thinking?'  Reasoning was a totally alien concept. As the organ required to achieve this process, was sadly lacking in his empty head, it shouldn't be possible, should it?

Who?  How?  Why?  Where?  Which?  What?  When?  So many questions needed answering, but he had no time for all that.

"Let's get the fuck outta here."  He yelled, above the ceaseless pounding of David Bowies Space Oddity, booming from the sound system.  Starman liked the F word. It rolled off the tongue he didn't have.

Slamming the Tesla into gear, headlights on full beam, and with the pedal to the metal, he zoomed off, shedding the cumbersome second stage rocket.  Before long the headlights picked out a sizeable comet blocking the way.  This could prove to be quite a challenge, but Starman was ready for anything. Glancing down at the dashboard he read, 'DONT PANIC.' on a small card placed there ...So he didn't. Deftly manoeuvering the Roadster this way, and that, he slalomed around the debris.  Neither car, nor driver, suffered a scratch.

Presently the Sextans Constellation, also known as the Baby Boom Galaxy, was penetrated.  Twinkling stars obligingly spelled out the name, making it blindingly obvious. 
"Sounds like my kinda fucking place."  He exclaimed.  However, the excitement, which was causing his limbs to quiver and his helmet to steam up, was short lived as he wondered if his body possessed the equipment needed for such an encounter.  Nevertheless, it was an enjoyable experience.

On and on, Starman travelled, witnessing wonders that you and I can only dream about.  Deeper and deeper, into uncharted Space, an inky blackness stretched before the intrepid explorer. When the Tesla finally emerged from this unrelenting void, Starman found it inconceivable that he had returned to the starting point of his journey and was, once more, in our own Solar System.  The belief of Space being infinite was shattered.  Of course, there is little chance that he will be credited with this discovery.......

.......And there, dear reader, we must leave Starman.  I'm sure there are many more wonders for him to see.


I have just glanced at Mandles, lengthy entry, which I think will take me a week to read. 
In contrast mine is rather short. I did say I wasn't going to bother, but Oh, well, what the heck!" 

Definition of Mandle mode:  1. A writer of interesting but weird stories, that nobody understands.    2. Takes no notice of rules.    3. Can't be bothered to vote for fellow contestants. 
4. Enjoys annoying Sinitrena for no particular reason.  .  In other words somebody who doesn't give a shit. 

In best pantomime fashion "Oh yes it was"!  Quite frankly, Sinitrena, I think I must have gone into Mandle mode. I like how you described it though.
If you don't mind editing your earlier post, I will be most grateful. 

Thanks Sinitrena for pointing out the error.  I haven't a clue what happened there. I have now removed my story because I decided it was crap. 

I have decided to remove my entry because I'm really not satisfied with my story. 

I'm glad that Mandle appreciates, us appreciating, his weird tale.  To show his gratitude He could, at least, have voted for his favoured entry.