by Stan |
May 24, 2015 · 9:42 am
Another nasty case of Gerrarditis
Dear Doctor Evans, I’m a BBC sports journalist and I can’t help mentioning the amazingly loyal Liverpool superstar footballer Steven Gerrard every time I open my mouth. Am I sick? Is there any cure? BBC Cliché (The Wirral)
Dear BBC Cliché, I’m afraid you are very sick, but your condition is curable.
You are suffering from a mass form of hysteria Continue reading →
Happy at last: couple can’t wait to retire to the city.
A Harold couple who grow vegetables on their organic small-holding can’t wait to sell everything and buy an ex-council house in London.
Jeanette and Ted Evans have worked tirelessly on their farm for the last 18 years, sometimes waking as early as 9.30am to tend to their radishes and spring cabbages.
Ted has dreamed for some time of giving it all up and moving to a sink estate, perhaps somewhere pebble-dashed with a shared communal area.
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Didn’t even care enough to get him unwanted gift vouchers
A card that was supposed to be presented as a retirement gift has been found still being passed around an office eighteen months after the intended recipient retired and left the company.
John Mills retired from the accounts department of a stationery supplies company in Dunstable in May 2012, after working there for over forty years. A card and collection was passed around the office in the weeks leading up to his retirement, but due to nobody really knowing who was responsible for starting this it is still circulating today. Continue reading →
Retirement present was ‘first clue’
Britain’s leading Fromologist has finally discovered what it was that he was supposed to be doing, just hours before his official retirement.
Dr Tristan Moorchamps, 68, has enjoyed the trappings of success associated with his field for nearly 40 years. Indeed, many of his learned colleagues have spoken of their admiration for a man who would regularly stop at nothing in his relentless pursuit of Fromological excellence.
Renowned for his impressively obscure vocabulary as much as his manifold speech impediments, Moorchamps was custodian to his college’s hallowed fromology library. There he would spend many a long decade, translating tomes from the original Latin into Swahili and back, looking for amusing discrepancies that could be used in after-dinner anecdotes.
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