He hasn’t got shit all over 'im.
A perfectly ordinary morning in a perfectly ordinary English suburb. Life goes on as it has done for years.
But soon this quiet pattern of life was to change irrevocably. The commonplace routine of a typical Monday morning would never be the same again, for into this quiet little community came … Mr Neutron!
We’ve been mentioned on telly!
Button your lip, you ratbag!!
I’ve had worse. Come on, ya pansy!
No. 1. The larch… the larch.
I will not buy this record, it is scratched.
That might cause a little confusion. Mind if we call you Bruce?
He’s not the Messiah. He’s a very naughty boy! Now, piss off!
I say you are, Lord, and I should know, I’ve followed a few.
Off I went, on a perfectly ordinary kind of day.
Ordinarily, yes, sir, but today the van broke down.
All right! I want a full-scale Red Alert throughout the world! Surround everyone with everything we’ve got! Mobilize every fighting unit and every weapon we can lay our hands on! I want… I want three full-scale global nuclear alerts with every army, navy and air force unit on eternal standby!
Right. Off you go, then.
Hello, the, er, show so far…well it all started with the organist losing all his clothes as he sat down at the organ, and after this had happened and we had seen the titles of the show, we saw Biggles dictating a letter to his secretary, who thought he was Spanish, and whom he referred to as a harlot and a woman of the night, although she preferred to be called a courtesan. Then we saw some people trying to climb a road in Uxbridge. And then there were some cartoons and then some lifeboatmen came into a woman’s sitting room and after a bit the woman went out to buy some cakes on a lifeboat and then a naval officer jumped into the sea. Then we saw a man telling us about storage jars from Bolivia, then there were some more cartoons and a man told us about what happened on the show so far and a great hammer came down and hit him on the head.
And now for something completely different. A man with a tape recorder up his brother’s nose.
But Doctor Quat was a man of quite remarkable medical insights, skill and determination and within a few minutes he had completely removed my wife’s knickers.
Mr. Notlob, there’s nothing wrong with you that an expensive operation can’t prolong.
Yes, I know what you mean. I am afraid he is suffering from what we doctors call whooping cough. That is the failure of the autonomic nervous section of the brain, to deal with the nerve impulses that enable you or I to retain some facts and eliminate others.
SPECIAL OFFER
Free Gas Cooker
Given Away To
Every Other Post To Thread!
see other thread