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Sunday 25 October 2020

2020 ~ The Musical...



This lockdown, quarantine, self-isolation gubbins is turning us all into canines.  We’re roaming like dogs through the house all day, scavenging for food.  We are told “NO!” if we get too close to other folk.  Finally, if we go on a car journey, we get really excited!


I named my dog ‘Stay’.  Then I shouted “Come here. Stay!”  He’s gone doo-lally now!


Clocks went back last Sunday.  That’s all we need.  Yet another hour of 2020! I put mine back to last March and the lockdown lunacy that ensued then and is being repeated now.  I really feel sorry for them blokes at Stonehenge who have to shift all them massive stones 3 metres to the left and then shift ‘em all back again next year. 


In days of yore, folk would call to see you and you’d make them a cuppa and offer a sammitch or similar.  These days, all they want is your wi-fi password and use of a charger!


The missus shouted downstairs: “Do you ever get those excruciating pains across your chest like someone has a voodoo doll of you and they’re sticking pins in it?” I sez: “No, I don’t.” 

She replied: “How about now?”


What with this entire Covid lark, I thought I’d do summat different and make today all about classical music from the Baroque period coupled with a genus of flowering plants that consists mostly of shrubs or small trees. Yes, folks, it's Bach to the Fuchsia Day!  To celebrate properly, I’ve bought myself a De Lorean car.  I only drive it from time to time.


I'm sick and tired of all these terrible pick up lines that women use in the pubs and clubs like "What's your friend's name?"


Just reading that there’s a small island off the coast of Italy which is inhabited by five million Sicilian people.  That’s got to be the biggest number I’ve ever heard of!  Just how many is five million Sicilian?


Top Tips: Instructions on how to fall asleep on a living room chair.  1)  Be old.  2) Sit in a chair.


The neighbour’s dog pooed on our lawn.  The missus told me to get a shovel and throw it over the fence. Bad call. Now we have a garden full of dog poo and no shovel.


I stood on the corner of Scropton Street, offering folk leaflets advertising the local martial arts class. Nobody chose to Taekwondo.


From the archives: “On hearing ill rumour that Londoners may soon be urged into their lodgings by Her Majesty’s men, I looked upon a gaggle of striplings making fair merry, and no doubt spreading the plague well about.  Not a care had these rogues for the health of their elders.”  Samuel Pepys Diaries – London 1664.


We’re gonna have to abandon that expression: ‘Avoid it like the plague’, because it turns out us humans do not do that...



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