There was abject horror in Doveholes last week when Storm Ciara blew a bloke out of the Benefits Office into the Job Centre. Luckily, Winter Storm Dennis blew him back again!
Not saying it was windy last week, but my wheelie bin is on a speed awareness course this coming Thursday.
Whilst on the subject of storms, the wife stormed into the scullery with my cell phone and screamed "I've just been looking through your mobile and you've been talking to some other woman!" I looked up guiltily and responded "It’s true. We speak for hours every day" She broke down sobbing, then sniffled "Why? What’s she got that I haven't?" "Unlimited minutes" I replied.
On the same subject, my wife seems to have two major problems:
1) Nothing to wear.
2) No room for all of her clothes.
Things are on the up! The good news is that the missus has landed a part-time job, washing dishes. The bad news is, it’s at Jodrell Bank....
Delighted by the gift she had received, the lady spoke warmly to Little Charlie. "At church tomorrow, I'll thank your mother for this lovely cake." "If you don't mind, ma'am," the boy suggested nervously, "Would you thank her for two cakes?"
The taxi driver spouted inane drivel from the moment he picked me up. A barrage of unrelenting addlepated blather assaulted my lugholes. He informed me: “I just love my job, me. I’m self-employed. I’m my own boss and nobody ever tells me what to do.” I sez to him, “Next left here, mate.”
Non-Stick Nora was sitting at the bar of my local pub, The Pit Bull & Stanley Knife, enjoying an after work cocktail with her girlfriends when a tall, exceptionally handsome extremely sexy, middle aged man entered. He was so striking that Nora could not take her eyes off him. This seasoned yet playful heartthrob noticed her overly attentive stare and walked directly toward her (as any man would). Before she could offer her apologies for staring so rudely, he leaned over and whispered to her, “I’ll do anything, absolutely anything, that you want me to do, for fifty quid, on one condition." Flabbergasted, but intrigued, Nora asked what the condition was. The man replied, "You have to tell me what you want me to do in just three words." Non-Stick Nora considered his proposition for a moment, and then slowly removed a £50 note from her purse, which she pressed into the man's hand along with her address. She looked deeply and passionately into his eyes, barely concealing her anticipation and excitement, and slowly and meaningfully said, “Paint my house”.
I worked a club in Halifax, Yorkshire one night and the concert secretary asked me if I had a good memory for faces, when I asked him why I would need to have, he replied “Someone’s nicked the mirror out of the dressing cupboard!”
Thursday Thought: We live in strange times. Kids run wild and dogs go to obedience school.