My Friday song.
Posted by paul on Fri, 03/04/2005 - 11:05pm.
A little late, perhaps, but what the hell...

(Recited, with a bizarrely cheerful tune running endlessly in the background)

After his second wife passed away, Percy Rawlinson seemed to spend more and more time with his Alsatian, Al. His friends told him, "You should get out more, Percy, you'll wind up looking like a dog, hah hah." He was later arrested near a lamppost. At his trial some months later he surprised everyone by mistaking a policeman for a postman and tearing his trousers off with his bare teeth. In his defense he told the court, "It's hard to tell the difference when they take their hats off."

Mrs. Betty Finch was playing the trombone when she heard a knock at the door. "I wonder who that is at 11 o'clock in the morning?" she thought. But cautiously opening the door, instead of the turbaned ruffian she expected, she found a very nice young man. "Mrs. Finch, you've won the car contest; would you like a Triumph Spitfire or £3000 in cash?" he smiled. Mrs. Finch took the money. "What will you do with it all, not that it's any of my business?" he giggled. "I think I'll become an alcoholic," said Betty.

With a geranium behind each ear and his face painted with gay cabalistic symbols, 6'8" 17-stone police sergeant Jeff Bull looked jolly convincing as he sweated and grunted through a vigorous twist routine at the Fraga Gogo Via Kellar. His hot serge trousers flapped wildly over his enormous plastic sandals as he jumped and jumped and gyrated toward a long-haired man. "Uh, excuse me man, I've reason to believe you can turn me on," he leered suggestively. As if by magic, dozens of truncheons appeared and mercilessly thrashed him. Poor Jeff -- what a turn-out for the books.

Much as he hated arguments or any kind of unpleasantness, Ron Shirr thought things had gone too far when returning from a weekend in Clacton he found that his neighbor had trimmed the enormous hedge dividing their gardens into the shape of a human leg. Enraged and envious beyond belief, Ron seized his garden shears and clipped his white poodle Rex into the shape of a coffee table. "That'll fix it," thought Ron -- but he was wrong. The following Wednesday his neighbor had his bushy waist-length hair cut and permed into a model of the Queen Elizabeth and went sailing. Everywhere he went, people said "Hurray!" Sometimes you just can't win.
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Anne Onymous
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