Shouldn’t you call the Church?
… then the old ladies are thrown into the fjords…
The Fyffe-Chulmleigh Spoon for Latin Elegaics… goes to … People’s Republic of China! Aaaagh!
What is your favorite color?
What an eccentric performance.
With me now is Norman St. John Polevaulter, who for the last few years has been contradicting people.
I see. You’d better wait here. I’ll get a cloth.
Burglar, madam.
No, I see. Well, never mind I’ll just take the ‘Lord Lieutenant in Nylons’ then, and these two copies of ‘Piggie Parade’. Thank you.
I cut down trees. I wear high heels, suspenders and a bra.
We use only the finest baby frogs, dew picked and flown from Iraq, cleansed in finest quality spring water, lightly killed, and then sealed in a succulent Swiss quintuple smooth treble cream milk chocolate envelope and lovingly frosted with glucose.
Some men call me… Tim.
G’day, Bruce!
Bunch of monkeys on your ceiling, sir! Grab your egg and fours and let’s get the bacon delivered!
Will passengers for flight one, please assemble at gate one. Passengers are advised that there is still plenty of time to buy eccles cakes.
Normally I would have asked a policeman or a minister of the Church, but finding no one available, I thought it better to consult a man with some professional qualifications, rather than rely on the possibly confused testimony of a passer-by.
Well, for a start, at the office where I work I can be sitting at my desk all day and the others totally ignore me…At home, even though we are in the same room, my wife does not speak to me for hours…people pass me by in the street without a glance in my direction…and I can walk into a room without…
Actually, I’m a gynaecologist, but this is my lunch hour.
Good doctor morning! Nice year for the time of day!
Look, for all I know, sir, you could’ve bought these in London before you ever went to Switzerland.