Chuck Wendig's challenge this week - to write a story involving travel of some sort.
My story is about travelling into your neighbours yard.
Football Friends
Tadgh and Peadar were playing football in the street outside their home. They had spent all morning kicking the ball off the high garden wall of Mr O’Shaughnessy who was according to Conor, their older brother ‘at least one hundred years old’. Their mother had warned them not to bother him because he was old and cranky and ‘she wasn’t going over there asking like a beggar for some lost ball’. It was hot and sunny and their sport was kicking up dust flurries off the street.
Tadgh the younger brother kicked hit the wall at midpoint, it bounced back and Peadar catching it on return ‘gave it wellie’ and sent it sailing over the wall. ‘Conor’s going to kill us’ Tadgh’s lower lip was already trembling and his eyes were welling up. ‘Shut up’ Peadar snapped ‘don’t be such a baby’.
Peadar chewed his thumbnail and drew blood. His finger stung and he felt close to tears. Conor would be mad as anything when he missed his prized ball signed by Colm Cooper ‘The Gooch’. It wasn’t even supposed to be used as a ball.‘We’ll have to go over and see if we can find it. Come on’ but Tadgh held back. ‘I don’t think Mum would want us going over there. She said she wouldn’t be bothering Mr O’Shaughnessy. And you know that’s cause she’s scared of him.’ Tadgh pulled back to his own side of the street and stood up on the footpath. The extra few inches almost brought him eye to eye with Peadar. ‘Come on’ Peadar insisted, not wanting to travel into Mr O’Shaughnessy garden all by himself. ‘If something does happen I’ll need a witness! You can stay about ten feet behind me. Any how if he’s as old as Mum says he’ll never catch me or you neither.’Tadgh didn’t answer just nodded his head and wiped his running nose on his sleeve. ‘You go first and I’ll follow. ‘
Peadar crossed the street, the midday sun created dark shadows under the sycamore tree next to Mr.O’Shaughnessys gate. The old iron gate was cold to touch. Peadar pushed it open and the hinges tore and snarled so loud Peadar felt sure his mother would hear. He glanced back at his own back garden just to make sure she wasn’t flying out her own front gate at that very moment. Tadgh was making very slow progress down the footpath on the opposite side of the street. Peadar followed the drive up to the old mans house as it snaked through several large sycamores. His footsteps echoed against the tarmac and Tadghs footsteps echoed as well so it sounded like an army was trailing him. A blackbird flew out of one of the lower shrubs; Peadar gasped and only barely managed not to scream. His nerves were on edge and he could feel his palms sweat. The sweat was making his thumb sting.
The front of the house was shaded by the trees but in the centre of the lawn was an old man sitting on a sun lounger. He was holding the football in his hands and looked as if he was reading the inscription on it. He was wearing red tartan slippers with worn out soles. He had a walking stick lying next to him on the lounger. It was a funny looking stick because instead of a rubber stopper on the end it had a tiny slipper about the size of Tadghs fist. Peadar glanced back and Tadgh was standing just behind the blackbirds shrub. Just out of sight of the old man.
‘Hello. I was wondering who was playing such fine football off my wall all morning’ Mr. O’Shaughnessy looked at Peadar over his reading glasses. ‘So which one of Lily McDavitts boys are you?’
Peadar chewed at his bleeding thumb, unsure what to do next. The old man sat there watching him like he had all the time in the world. Peadar knew it was only a matter of minutes before his Mom noticed they were gone from the street out side his home and she would come looking for them. Taking a big breath he said ‘I’m Peadar, the middle one, Conor is the oldest and that’s his ball you’ve got there.’
Peadar waited then afraid he had said too much. ‘And who is that young gentleman behind the bushes’ he said raising his eyebrows. ‘That’s Tadgh, he’s the baby’.
This is a fine ball. I can just make out the signature. I don’t suppose Conor knows you have it? The old man stopped and waited.
'No he doesn’t and he’d kill us in he finds out.’ Peadar was afraid the old man was going to tell on them. His anxiety was making him sweat again.
'I’ll tell you what Peadar, let you take this ball back home. And why don’t you and your brother come here and play ball. I’ve a whole collection of them in that shed and you could play on the lawn over there. And besides you wouldn’t be wreaking my head ricocheting the ball off the wall all day for the rest of the summer. What do you think of that?,
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Descriptive piece.
This weeks challenge on Chuck Wendigs site was to write about 'Death'. However I just couldn't face the bleakness of it. So I am publishing a piece I did for my writing class. Challenge 'Write the detail of something commonplace uncommonly well'
Why don't you give it a try.
Peter entered the kitchen closing the door behind him with an
inelegant back kick. He was shivering slightly in the chilly air his bare
feet slapping against the cold tiled floor. He casually dropped the morning
paper on the kitchen table as he dodged passed, swinging his hips 'like a
girl'. On the counter top he spied a loaf of 'Pat the baker's' Pats Pan
heedlessly left lying on its side, the last two slices spilling out of the
gaudy yellow wrapper. He took them and leaning across the cooker dropped
them in the toaster. With a smooth downwards movement he clicked the knob
to the 'on' position. The element inside began to glow a rich red and the
wonderful smell of toasting bread began to fill the air. Peter dusted the
crumbs off his hand in a quick slicing motion scattering them across the
counter, cooker and on to the floor. This slicing motion developed into
a few karate chops and suddenly he was kung-fu fighting imaginary aliens
up and down the kitchen floor his bare feet oblivious to the cold.
Very black smoke smelling of trouble started to fill the kitchen, 'Ah no'
Peter gasped out of breath from killing aliens. Bounding to the counter
Peter smacked the cancel switch on the toaster. It was a small red
triangle on the top of the toaster and it didn't respond the first two
times. Two rather sad looking pieces of toast emerged from the machine.
Peter was disappointed; they didn't look very appetising at all. His
stomach rumbled, a loud gurgling sound that started somewhere near his
toes. Peter rubbed his belly up and down, the soft fabric of his pyjamas
moving over his skin warming him. His toes began to complain about
standing on the cold floor strewn with crumbs so he shifted from foot to
foot as he rubbed first one foot and then the other against his pyjama
pants to warm them while at the same time getting rid of the grimy feel of
the crumbs stuck to them. The toast did not smell good. But it was the
last of the bread and he would have to eat it. Taking a knife from the
drawer he began scraping off the burnt edges with great vigour, but he
wasn't happy with the result so he cut off the bits he didn't like the look
of letting them land in a pile at the bottom of the sink in the middle of
the halo of black dust which extended up the sides of the sink and onto the
counter top. He took a plate out of the wall cupboard and dropped the odd
shaped pieces of toast on it. He carefully placed it on the table. He got
a clean knife from the drawer and the butter from the fridge and put them
on the table also. He pulled out a chair and sat down curling his legs
around the limbs of the chair so his feet were finally free of the frosty
tiles. Carefully he set about buttering his toast. His tongue stuck out
as he concentrated, his black hair falling forward shading his face. He
worked methodically right to left, right to left, spreading great big
knife-fuls of butter on to the toast. Mounds of melting butter squelching
along in front of his knife. He took another lump of butter to cover out
along the edges and buttered his index finger and thumb too. He licked his
fingers and his knife clean, wiped it on his sleeve and popped it back in
the drawer. As good as new!
.
Why don't you give it a try.
Peter entered the kitchen closing the door behind him with an
inelegant back kick. He was shivering slightly in the chilly air his bare
feet slapping against the cold tiled floor. He casually dropped the morning
paper on the kitchen table as he dodged passed, swinging his hips 'like a
girl'. On the counter top he spied a loaf of 'Pat the baker's' Pats Pan
heedlessly left lying on its side, the last two slices spilling out of the
gaudy yellow wrapper. He took them and leaning across the cooker dropped
them in the toaster. With a smooth downwards movement he clicked the knob
to the 'on' position. The element inside began to glow a rich red and the
wonderful smell of toasting bread began to fill the air. Peter dusted the
crumbs off his hand in a quick slicing motion scattering them across the
counter, cooker and on to the floor. This slicing motion developed into
a few karate chops and suddenly he was kung-fu fighting imaginary aliens
up and down the kitchen floor his bare feet oblivious to the cold.
Very black smoke smelling of trouble started to fill the kitchen, 'Ah no'
Peter gasped out of breath from killing aliens. Bounding to the counter
Peter smacked the cancel switch on the toaster. It was a small red
triangle on the top of the toaster and it didn't respond the first two
times. Two rather sad looking pieces of toast emerged from the machine.
Peter was disappointed; they didn't look very appetising at all. His
stomach rumbled, a loud gurgling sound that started somewhere near his
toes. Peter rubbed his belly up and down, the soft fabric of his pyjamas
moving over his skin warming him. His toes began to complain about
standing on the cold floor strewn with crumbs so he shifted from foot to
foot as he rubbed first one foot and then the other against his pyjama
pants to warm them while at the same time getting rid of the grimy feel of
the crumbs stuck to them. The toast did not smell good. But it was the
last of the bread and he would have to eat it. Taking a knife from the
drawer he began scraping off the burnt edges with great vigour, but he
wasn't happy with the result so he cut off the bits he didn't like the look
of letting them land in a pile at the bottom of the sink in the middle of
the halo of black dust which extended up the sides of the sink and onto the
counter top. He took a plate out of the wall cupboard and dropped the odd
shaped pieces of toast on it. He carefully placed it on the table. He got
a clean knife from the drawer and the butter from the fridge and put them
on the table also. He pulled out a chair and sat down curling his legs
around the limbs of the chair so his feet were finally free of the frosty
tiles. Carefully he set about buttering his toast. His tongue stuck out
as he concentrated, his black hair falling forward shading his face. He
worked methodically right to left, right to left, spreading great big
knife-fuls of butter on to the toast. Mounds of melting butter squelching
along in front of his knife. He took another lump of butter to cover out
along the edges and buttered his index finger and thumb too. He licked his
fingers and his knife clean, wiped it on his sleeve and popped it back in
the drawer. As good as new!
.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
I Light Up.
So I've been off line for a bit!
Sorry to anyone who has been checking in.
I was musing and muttering to myself and generally mumbling out loud.
Well you know what that gets you?
Strange looks from people who pull their collars up against the winter
chill beaming at them from crazed eyes.
My eyes.
Strangers who cross the street and travel down unfamiliar alleys just to
avoid you and your incoherent babble.
Well that was me and my babble and crazed eyes for a while.
You see life intruded on . . . life. So much so that I decided to give up
writing.
Yeargh! Bad decision.
I felt I had nothing to say and nothing to share and nothing meaningful
would ever emerge from that soft fleshy blob in my skull.
But then a miracle happened.
A Road to Damascus Epiphany almost (OK not as important as Pauls but very
important to me).
I took a day off work (the paid kind) and visited my sister who is also a
writer in her heart and we started talking about all manner of things.
Then she said – pay attention now. My wise sister said 'Whenever I hear
someone talking about writing on the radio or TV I light up'
And that was it. Because there in those 3 little words she had summed me
up too.
I light up
When I hear a radio discussion with an author.
When I hear books reviewed.
When my friend rings and says lets get together and do some writing.
I light up.
So folks what do you say? Lets do some writing. It's good for the
writerly soul.
Sorry to anyone who has been checking in.
I was musing and muttering to myself and generally mumbling out loud.
Well you know what that gets you?
Strange looks from people who pull their collars up against the winter
chill beaming at them from crazed eyes.
My eyes.
Strangers who cross the street and travel down unfamiliar alleys just to
avoid you and your incoherent babble.
Well that was me and my babble and crazed eyes for a while.
You see life intruded on . . . life. So much so that I decided to give up
writing.
Yeargh! Bad decision.
I felt I had nothing to say and nothing to share and nothing meaningful
would ever emerge from that soft fleshy blob in my skull.
But then a miracle happened.
A Road to Damascus Epiphany almost (OK not as important as Pauls but very
important to me).
I took a day off work (the paid kind) and visited my sister who is also a
writer in her heart and we started talking about all manner of things.
Then she said – pay attention now. My wise sister said 'Whenever I hear
someone talking about writing on the radio or TV I light up'
And that was it. Because there in those 3 little words she had summed me
up too.
I light up
When I hear a radio discussion with an author.
When I hear books reviewed.
When my friend rings and says lets get together and do some writing.
I light up.
So folks what do you say? Lets do some writing. It's good for the
writerly soul.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Chuck Wendig Challenge Fire of the Gods
Challenge write a story using the title 'Fire of the Gods' and you have up to 1000 words.
Fire of the Gods
“Uisce beatha” he said raising his glass and saluting her. The glass glinted in the dull lights of the bar. The honey coloured liquid innocent inside the tumbler.
“The water of life” his speech was a little slurred, then he swallowed the entire contents of the glass in one smooth practised move. He tipped his empty towards the bartender who replaced it immediately. His eyes were bloodshot, bleary and unfocused, red tendrils shot through the whites and you just knew he already had too much to drink that year.
Deirdre made circles on the dark wood table with the condensation from her own glass of Ballygowan...Still. Pierce burped, a fog of food and alcohol flavoured air enveloped Deirdre. She must have pulled a face because he suddenly seemed to notice her. “Don’t act so posh now Deirdre. I remember you coming over to our house and you hardly had the clothes on your back” he burped again. “Just cause your old man’s got a few bob. . . don’t think we don’t remember where you came from”. Fat chance of that in a town this size Deirdre thought.
She was seriously regretting promising Fiona to keep an eye on her brother while she mingled with the funeral crowd. Pierce wasn’t that hard on the eyes but he wasn’t much company. To be honest he was a pain but I guess burying your mother effected different people in different ways. “Do you remember when you were thirteen and I let you see me naked” he was smirking knowing at her. Good God he was attempting a wink his whole face crumpled in the effort. He leaned in to her and whispered “you loved it”.
“You are so disgusting. I had to stop calling over to Fiona because of you. And when my Mum tried to talk to your freshly departed old Mam about it she tore her apart. You caused so much trouble for both families.” Deirdre was so angry as she remembered her teenage self being so humiliated by this man. She could feel her face burn in remembered shame. If only she could hit his stupid face off the timber of the table again and again and again. Pity about the law saying you couldn’t do that sort of thing any more.
“But you loved it. Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here with me all night”
Deirdre looked him up and down then taking in the cheap suit that was at least ten years old. The food stains, the wet patch on his crotch where he’d had a mishap in the toilet and she thought I am so much better than this.
“Fire of the Gods” She said it slow and deliberate. He looked up at her confusion knitting his brow. “It’s what my father always called whiskey”
“Huh” was all he could manage.
“Shall I tell you why?” she asked but she didn’t wait for an answer “because it could burn a hole in your belly but it would definitely sting the hell out of your eyes” and she took his glass and threw it in his face. “Goodbye Asshole” and she disappeared through the heaving crowd of black.
Fire of the Gods
“Uisce beatha” he said raising his glass and saluting her. The glass glinted in the dull lights of the bar. The honey coloured liquid innocent inside the tumbler.
“The water of life” his speech was a little slurred, then he swallowed the entire contents of the glass in one smooth practised move. He tipped his empty towards the bartender who replaced it immediately. His eyes were bloodshot, bleary and unfocused, red tendrils shot through the whites and you just knew he already had too much to drink that year.
Deirdre made circles on the dark wood table with the condensation from her own glass of Ballygowan...Still. Pierce burped, a fog of food and alcohol flavoured air enveloped Deirdre. She must have pulled a face because he suddenly seemed to notice her. “Don’t act so posh now Deirdre. I remember you coming over to our house and you hardly had the clothes on your back” he burped again. “Just cause your old man’s got a few bob. . . don’t think we don’t remember where you came from”. Fat chance of that in a town this size Deirdre thought.
She was seriously regretting promising Fiona to keep an eye on her brother while she mingled with the funeral crowd. Pierce wasn’t that hard on the eyes but he wasn’t much company. To be honest he was a pain but I guess burying your mother effected different people in different ways. “Do you remember when you were thirteen and I let you see me naked” he was smirking knowing at her. Good God he was attempting a wink his whole face crumpled in the effort. He leaned in to her and whispered “you loved it”.
“You are so disgusting. I had to stop calling over to Fiona because of you. And when my Mum tried to talk to your freshly departed old Mam about it she tore her apart. You caused so much trouble for both families.” Deirdre was so angry as she remembered her teenage self being so humiliated by this man. She could feel her face burn in remembered shame. If only she could hit his stupid face off the timber of the table again and again and again. Pity about the law saying you couldn’t do that sort of thing any more.
“But you loved it. Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here with me all night”
Deirdre looked him up and down then taking in the cheap suit that was at least ten years old. The food stains, the wet patch on his crotch where he’d had a mishap in the toilet and she thought I am so much better than this.
“Fire of the Gods” She said it slow and deliberate. He looked up at her confusion knitting his brow. “It’s what my father always called whiskey”
“Huh” was all he could manage.
“Shall I tell you why?” she asked but she didn’t wait for an answer “because it could burn a hole in your belly but it would definitely sting the hell out of your eyes” and she took his glass and threw it in his face. “Goodbye Asshole” and she disappeared through the heaving crowd of black.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Biutiful
Last night Hubster and I went to see 'Biutiful' starring Javier Bardem.
It is all the things that the critics have written about it.
Well acted, wellwritten, well directed, mercurial, visual and more.
But the story of Biutiful is so so sad.
Uxbal is surrounded by people but he is alone.
I won't say any more because you may get a chance to see it.
It is 2 hours long so be warned.
But it is one of those movies that stay with you.
This morning driving to work I was so grateful to be alive and healthy.
This movie gave me a gift.
The gift to see my life for what it is.
Blessed.
Biutiful
Javier Bardem gives an overpowering and now Oscar-nominated performance as the anguished street hustler Uxbal, who finds himself bowed down by
troubles. This is a story of a man in free fall. On the road to redemption,
darkness lights his way. Connected with the afterlife, Uxbal is a tragic
hero and father of two who's sensing the danger of death. He struggles with
a tainted reality and a fate that works against him in order to forgive,
for love, and forever. The film stars Academy Award winning Javier Bardem
(No Country for Old Men), who recently won the best actor award for this
role at the Cannes Film Festival. This is a tour de force that takes us on
a unique and compelling journey down the rocky road of human existence.
It is all the things that the critics have written about it.
Well acted, wellwritten, well directed, mercurial, visual and more.
But the story of Biutiful is so so sad.
Uxbal is surrounded by people but he is alone.
I won't say any more because you may get a chance to see it.
It is 2 hours long so be warned.
But it is one of those movies that stay with you.
This morning driving to work I was so grateful to be alive and healthy.
This movie gave me a gift.
The gift to see my life for what it is.
Blessed.
Biutiful
Javier Bardem gives an overpowering and now Oscar-nominated performance as the anguished street hustler Uxbal, who finds himself bowed down by
troubles. This is a story of a man in free fall. On the road to redemption,
darkness lights his way. Connected with the afterlife, Uxbal is a tragic
hero and father of two who's sensing the danger of death. He struggles with
a tainted reality and a fate that works against him in order to forgive,
for love, and forever. The film stars Academy Award winning Javier Bardem
(No Country for Old Men), who recently won the best actor award for this
role at the Cannes Film Festival. This is a tour de force that takes us on
a unique and compelling journey down the rocky road of human existence.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Justice for all.
Chuck Wendig Flash Fiction Challenge
write a story of 1000 words or less using 10 of the 20 words below.
Beast, brooch, cape, dinosaur, dove, fever, finger, flea, gate, insult,
justice, mattress, moth, paradise, research, scream, seed, sparrow,
tornado, university
'He's dead' Sally slammed the phone back in its cradle.
'Who's dead?' her mother asked.
'That Goddam John Murphy, remember him, he tormented every day for a
month after my tenth birthday. Yes. There is justice after all.'
Sally opened the window and screamed 'justice for all' scattering
some small birds from the yard.
'He's very young to die. Are you sure you want to be celebrating?
'I didn't kill him. I haven't thought him for years so you can't
come over all guilty and say I wished him ill. Something bit his
finger and he got some kind of fever and he died. I'm not surprised
really he's been living rough for years. I always thought he'd be
stabbed'. Sally was rummaging about in her handbag. She pulled out
a large brooch.
'I never knew that' Sally's mother sat down and folded her hands in
her lap. Sally came to sit beside her. 'He wasn't a nice person
Mum, he would wait at the school gate and gather a gang of boys and
they would chant here comes Sally the Sparrow, she eats fleas and
marrow. It was insulting and hurtful and I hated him.'
Her mother didn't say anything just nodded so Sally continued 'I
heard he was sleeping on a mattress somewhere near the research building
at the university. They think he was bitten by a lab rat that
escaped. His body is going to be cremated because they don't know
what he died of. It's going to cause a big rumpus. Professor
Dinosaur is going to be in one heap of trouble after this'
'Isn't he the guy who gave you such poor grades last term?'
'Yep'
'Maybe you're right Sally, maybe there is justice for all, after
all.'
write a story of 1000 words or less using 10 of the 20 words below.
Beast, brooch, cape, dinosaur, dove, fever, finger, flea, gate, insult,
justice, mattress, moth, paradise, research, scream, seed, sparrow,
tornado, university
'He's dead' Sally slammed the phone back in its cradle.
'Who's dead?' her mother asked.
'That Goddam John Murphy, remember him, he tormented every day for a
month after my tenth birthday. Yes. There is justice after all.'
Sally opened the window and screamed 'justice for all' scattering
some small birds from the yard.
'He's very young to die. Are you sure you want to be celebrating?
'I didn't kill him. I haven't thought him for years so you can't
come over all guilty and say I wished him ill. Something bit his
finger and he got some kind of fever and he died. I'm not surprised
really he's been living rough for years. I always thought he'd be
stabbed'. Sally was rummaging about in her handbag. She pulled out
a large brooch.
'I never knew that' Sally's mother sat down and folded her hands in
her lap. Sally came to sit beside her. 'He wasn't a nice person
Mum, he would wait at the school gate and gather a gang of boys and
they would chant here comes Sally the Sparrow, she eats fleas and
marrow. It was insulting and hurtful and I hated him.'
Her mother didn't say anything just nodded so Sally continued 'I
heard he was sleeping on a mattress somewhere near the research building
at the university. They think he was bitten by a lab rat that
escaped. His body is going to be cremated because they don't know
what he died of. It's going to cause a big rumpus. Professor
Dinosaur is going to be in one heap of trouble after this'
'Isn't he the guy who gave you such poor grades last term?'
'Yep'
'Maybe you're right Sally, maybe there is justice for all, after
all.'
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Eulogy to Frank Carson - it's the way I tell um
The Grim Reaper came for me last night, and I beat him off with a
vacuum cleaner. Talk about Dyson with death.
A mate of mine recently admitted to being addicted to brake fluid.
When I quizzed him on it he reckoned he could stop any time....
I went to the cemetery yesterday to lay some flowers on a grave. As I
was standing there I noticed 4 grave diggers walking about with a
coffin, 3 hours later and they're still walking about with it. I
thought to myself, they've lost the plot!!
My daughter asked me for a pet spider for her birthday, so I went to
our local pet shop and they were £70!!! Blow this, I thought, I can
get one cheaper off the web.
I was at an ATM yesterday when a little old lady asked if I could
check her balance, so I pushed her over.
I start a new job in Seoul next week. I thought it was a good Korea
move.
I was driving this morning when I saw an AA van parked up. The driver
was sobbing uncontrollably and looked very miserable. I thought to
myself that guy's heading for a breakdown.
Statistically, 6 out of 7 dwarves are not Happy.
My neighbour knocked on my door at 2:30am this morning, can you
believe that, 2:30am?! Luckily for him I was still up playing my
Bagpipes.
Paddy says "Mick, I'm thinking of buying a Labrador." Sod that" says
Mick "have you seen how many of their owners go blind?"
I saw a poor old lady fall over today on the ice!! At least I presume
she was poor - she only had £1.20 in her purse.
I woke up last night to find the ghost of Gloria Gaynor standing at
the foot of my bed. At first I was afraid.......then I was petrified.
A wife says to her husband you're always pushing me around and
talking behind my back. He says what do you expect? You're in a
wheelchair.
I was explaining to my wife last night that when you die you get
reincarnated but must come back as a different creature. She said I
would like to come back as a cow. I said you're obviously not
listening.
The wife has been missing a week now. Police said to prepare for the
worst. So I have been to the charity shop to get all her clothes
back.
The wife was counting all the 1p's and 2p's out on the kitchen table
when she suddenly got very angry and started shouting and crying for
no reason. I thought to myself, "She's going through the change."
When I was in the pub I heard a couple of plonkas saying that they
wouldn't feel safe on an aircraft if they knew the pilot was a woman.
What a pair of sexist pigs. I mean, it's not as if she'd have to
reverse the bloomin thing
Local Police hunting the 'knitting needle nutter', who has stabbed
six people in the village in the last 48 hours, believe the attacker
could be following some kind of pattern.
Bought some 'rocket salad' yesterday but it went off before I could
eat it!
A teddy bear is working on a building site. He goes for a tea break
and when he returns he notices his pick has been stolen. The bear is
angry and reports the theft to the foreman. The foreman grins at the
bear and says "Oh, I forgot to tell you, today's the day the teddy
bears have their picks nicked
Just got back from my mate's funeral. He died after being hit on the
head with a tennis ball. It was a lovely service
vacuum cleaner. Talk about Dyson with death.
A mate of mine recently admitted to being addicted to brake fluid.
When I quizzed him on it he reckoned he could stop any time....
I went to the cemetery yesterday to lay some flowers on a grave. As I
was standing there I noticed 4 grave diggers walking about with a
coffin, 3 hours later and they're still walking about with it. I
thought to myself, they've lost the plot!!
My daughter asked me for a pet spider for her birthday, so I went to
our local pet shop and they were £70!!! Blow this, I thought, I can
get one cheaper off the web.
I was at an ATM yesterday when a little old lady asked if I could
check her balance, so I pushed her over.
I start a new job in Seoul next week. I thought it was a good Korea
move.
I was driving this morning when I saw an AA van parked up. The driver
was sobbing uncontrollably and looked very miserable. I thought to
myself that guy's heading for a breakdown.
Statistically, 6 out of 7 dwarves are not Happy.
My neighbour knocked on my door at 2:30am this morning, can you
believe that, 2:30am?! Luckily for him I was still up playing my
Bagpipes.
Paddy says "Mick, I'm thinking of buying a Labrador." Sod that" says
Mick "have you seen how many of their owners go blind?"
I saw a poor old lady fall over today on the ice!! At least I presume
she was poor - she only had £1.20 in her purse.
I woke up last night to find the ghost of Gloria Gaynor standing at
the foot of my bed. At first I was afraid.......then I was petrified.
A wife says to her husband you're always pushing me around and
talking behind my back. He says what do you expect? You're in a
wheelchair.
I was explaining to my wife last night that when you die you get
reincarnated but must come back as a different creature. She said I
would like to come back as a cow. I said you're obviously not
listening.
The wife has been missing a week now. Police said to prepare for the
worst. So I have been to the charity shop to get all her clothes
back.
The wife was counting all the 1p's and 2p's out on the kitchen table
when she suddenly got very angry and started shouting and crying for
no reason. I thought to myself, "She's going through the change."
When I was in the pub I heard a couple of plonkas saying that they
wouldn't feel safe on an aircraft if they knew the pilot was a woman.
What a pair of sexist pigs. I mean, it's not as if she'd have to
reverse the bloomin thing
Local Police hunting the 'knitting needle nutter', who has stabbed
six people in the village in the last 48 hours, believe the attacker
could be following some kind of pattern.
Bought some 'rocket salad' yesterday but it went off before I could
eat it!
A teddy bear is working on a building site. He goes for a tea break
and when he returns he notices his pick has been stolen. The bear is
angry and reports the theft to the foreman. The foreman grins at the
bear and says "Oh, I forgot to tell you, today's the day the teddy
bears have their picks nicked
Just got back from my mate's funeral. He died after being hit on the
head with a tennis ball. It was a lovely service
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