…spam spam spam Spam spam spam spam Spam…
Well Bruce, I heard the Prime Minister use it. S’hot enough to boil a monkey’s bum in ‘ere, your Majesty,’ he said and she smiled quietly to herself.
This morning, shortly after eleven o’clock, comedy struck this little house in Dibley Road. Sudden…violent…comedy. Police have sealed off the area, and Scotland Yard’s crack inspector is with me now.
You’ve heard of that man who mistook his wife for a hat?
Yes … well, sort of.
We had a friend who mistook his wife for an overcoat, and it being a cold day, tried to put her on.
Good heavens! What happened?
The wife strenuously objected, and beat him up.
And …?
The husband sued her for assault.
Go on …
The judge said it was a sad case of misadventure, and awarded costs against the wife.
That hardly seems fair.
That’s what the wife said. But she had the last word.
Yes …?
She shot and killed the husband, and said she mistook him for a burglar. The coroner said it was a sad case of misadventure.
Look! The dead Prince!
We all went down to the cathedral yesterday.
Oh, yes?
Yes, and when we got there they were wheeling out the cannon. Poor thing was in bad shape.
Drunk again?
What? No, it was a gun cannon.
Ah. Top man, eh?
What …?
I see that you have a cabbage.
I see that you have a cabbage.
I did ask you not to say ‘mattress,’ didn’t I? Now I’ve got to stand in the tea chest.
Hello, Prof. Pepperwinkle.
My posts are my own work, with occasional oblique references to other things that already exist. For instance, in the post referring to the battle of Balaklava, the last line: “… watching all the souls go by” was an obvious take on " … watching all the girls go by"
in a published song.
I hope I’m not departing too far from the surrealistic intent of this thread, because my posts are not, I think, quite Pythonesque. But I do derive a great deal of pleasure in composing them - which I suppose is to the point of the exercise.
Anyway, thank you for your interest. I for one like having my work read - as G. K. Chesterton (I think) once said of his preferred obituary: “His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.”
Regards, Medici.
Yes, shrubberies are my trade; I am a shrubber. My name is Roger the Shrubber. I arrange, design, and sell shrubberies.
Ni!
Shut up. Now, let’s have a look at the sales chart. When you took over this account, Frog, Conquistador was a brand leader. Here you introduced your first campaign, ‘Conquistador Coffee brings a new meaning to the word vomit’. Here you made your special introductory offer of a free dead dog with every jar, and this followed your second campaign ‘the tingling fresh coffee which brings you exciting new cholera, mange, dropsy, the clap, hard pad and athlete’s head. From the House of Conquistador’.
Morbid thoughts of ill-done deeds
sprout within my mind like weeds.
Each waking hour, from first to last,
they blight the present with the past.
I took her out at dead of night
and buried her by candlelight,
amongst the gum trees in the park.
(There’s no-one out there after dark.)
I know I should have bought a plot -
the kind the local Council’s got.
But times are tough, the money tight,
and no-one mourns the beggar’s plight.
So as I sit and rue the past,
those morbid thoughts come thick and fast.
If they don’t stop, it’s very plain -
I’ll have to dig her up again.
[giant foot smashes down]
My hovercraft is full of eels.
Luxury.
and
IN 1970, THE BRITISH EMPIRE LAY IN RUINS, FOREIGN NATIONALS FREQUENTED THE STREETS - MANY OF THEM HUNGARIANS (NOT THE STREETS - THE FOREIGN NATIONALS). ANYWAY, MANY OF THESE HUNGARIANS WENT INTO TOBACCONIST’S SHOPS TO BUY CIGARETTES…
Beautiful plumage!
Interestingly, the Spanish translation is ‘airslider.’