Accrington isn't boring!

Having been told there was nothing interesting in Accrington the search was actually easy. I I took a picture of this badge declaring the peace waging capacity of nuclear submarines in what appeared to be a small curiousity shop. A fellow from the local community action group, which runs Accrington museum, (baisically a stall in the local market next to the town hall) was partly disgruntled by my picture taking. He pointed out an aged microscopic piece of paper scrawled on in blue biro. "Please ask permission to photograph my collection." I apologised and he insisted that it was fine but that he had an interesting story to tell about his dad and his friend Blackie who were stationed at Faslane Naval base back in the 70's. Apparently both men had staggered back to the base very late and pissed after a night out in Helensburgh. Having unavoidably attracted the attention of senior officers both men were given cleaning duty the next morning. Blackie was given the job of cleaning the torpedo room and inadvertantly pressed the launch button with his elbow while dusting a periscope as he stumbled around nursing a dreadful hangover. A torpedo was sent up the loch knocking over a boat carrying several fisher men and blowing the local milk lady clean into the air as the missile blew up at Garelochhead. According to this tale, which was clearly riddled with cavernous holes in the plot, he even knew the lady in questions name, Mrs. McClafferty. Apparently this had occured only moments before manouvers which would have seen the sub turned round. The story goes that if it had been the other way round the torpedo would have hit the QE 2 which was moored in Greenock.
He also had a large collection of glass bottles and jars of which I was very jealous. Clearly mistaking this jealousy for something else he grasped at my arm as I tried to leave hauling me in for a kiss. He missed where a normal kiss would go and it landed on my eye. I'm not sure what the moral of this story is. Suggestions appreciated!