Special Guest Blogger: William Mullins

Much is made of the fact that when my family and i left the appropriately named Dorking in Surrey, i stacked 126 pairs of shoes in my pack to travel to the New World. It never occurred to me that a fishing rod would have been a much better idea, as a shoes salesman my mind was firmly on the need for comfortable footwear when we got there.
As we believed England was not Holy enough, a bunch of us Bible bashers got together to sail to the New World so i sold up my shoe business and home for £280 and boarded the Mayflower and put the foot comfort of my family above things such as eating or surviving as i assumed God would provide, but did he heck because my poncing off others quickly got old and i died shortly after landing at New Plymouth, literally going from making clogs to popping them.
As befitting a man who dragged his family across the Atlantic Ocean with no food but many pairs of shoes, my will called for the distribution of my remaining goods so my wife, son and daughters were the proud owners of dozen of pairs of shoes and boots which ensured that they were cursing me and gnawing on leather uppers when my wife and son died a month later although the youngest daughter survived as the less well-shoed Pilgrims took her under their wing. 
As we know the Pilgrim's went on to survive and develop America into the gun toting cheeseburger gorging nation we know today with no thanks whatsoever to my reckless disregard in ensuring that my family survived.