The Befouled Weakly News
25 July 2010
Good morning to you all. Just think – this time next week Ms Playchute and I will be at the Ritz. Doesn’t time fly when you are enjoying yourself!
Ever since our Molly was a puppy she has been extremely fond of her food. (Aren’t we all!) So much so that whenever one even thought about having a piece of toast for breakfast she would be at your feet gazing longingly into your eyes trying to persuade you with a doleful expression that what she really, really, really, needs was just a small sample of whatever it is that you’re having. The merest rustle of paper or indeed the very act of opening the bread bin would summon her in a heartbeat. You hadn’t even removed the bread from the bread bin and you would turn around and find her sitting expectantly. Even more amazing, you could see (and hear) her snoring in the living room, tiptoe silently through to the kitchen and noiselessly remove the lid of the bread bin and hey presto! There she was.
Now, however, as she has reached an advanced age, she is no longer there in an instant. Nowadays, she arrives just as the toast pops.
Originally I put this down to loss of hearing but when I think about it, I realise that this is not the case. As I say, generally she gets there before the toast has popped so I reckon that she has indeed heard the bread bin being opened, heard the rustle of the wrapper as one extracts a slice of bread, heard the bread being slid into the toaster and the lever being depressed. Only then does she bother to rouse herself from wherever she has been slumbering to arrive just at the moment the toast is about to be removed from the toaster. Pretty damn clever – why waste all that time sitting and looking as if one is about to starve to death when one can achieve the same result by arriving a few minutes later?
We’ve had a fair few swallow invasions this week which is most unusual. Generally, we might get one or two who mistakenly find their way indoors. Usually, it’s the young ones and often it’s when they are just learning to fly. They flutter about and, when aiming for the garage (i.e., the Landing Bay), they take a slight wrong turn and end up flying through the open front door and into the entrance hall/gallery. This week, however, we’ve had three or four incursions and these are certainly not just out of the nest fledglings.
Those of you who have had the misfortune of visiting Penelope’s Playchute Palace will know that the entrance to our fine establishment opens into a two-storey gallery with an open landing at the top of the stairs. Naturally, when the swallows do come in they fly up to the ceiling and then flutter about in a confused daze looking for a way out. There is a skylight but that is generally closed and the only other way out is through a window in one of the bedrooms which are, of course, also generally closed. I accept that these infiltrations could be completely eliminated if one could be persuaded to keep the front door closed. Unfortunately, I live with someone who insists on keeping the door open during the summer so that the fresh air can “flow through the house”. No amount of discussion has managed to persuade her that the front door should be shut during swallow season and so we just have to put up with the consequences.
The main consequence, of course, is that whenever a swallow does find its way into the house, whilst fluttering about trying to find a way out, it craps all over the walls, the floor and even on the pictures hanging on the wall along the landing. If it finds its way into one of the bedrooms the crapping continues all over the carpet, bed linen and curtains. You’d think someone would get the message, wouldn’t you?
And, speaking of consequences, I ran across the following in the Daily Telegraph whilst waiting to have my hair cut on Friday.
The article also had these references to other “unusual” place names in the UK.
And finally, finally, finally – I couldn’t believe this story from the BBC web site. Selfridges in London is launching its Christmas season on 2 August, earlier than ever before (but, only by a week).
Love to you all,
A father walks into a market followed by his 10-year-old son. The kid is flipping a quarter into the air and catching it between his teeth.
As they walk through the market someone bumps into the boy at just the wrong moment: the coin goes straight into his mouth and lodges in his throat. He immediately starts choking and going blue in the face. Naturally, the Dad starts panicking, shouting and screaming for help.
A middle-aged, fairly unnoticeable man in a gray suit is sitting at a coffee bar in the market reading his newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee. At the sound of the commotion, he looks up, puts his coffee cup down on the saucer, neatly folds his newspaper and places it on the counter. He gets up from his seat and makes his unhurried way across the market. Reaching the boy, the man carefully takes hold of the kid's testicles and squeezes gently but firmly. After a few seconds the boy convulses violently and coughs up the 25 cent piece, which the man catches out of the air with his free hand. Releasing the boy, the man hands the coin to the father and walks back to his seat in the coffee bar without saying a word.
As soon as he is sure that his son has suffered no lasting ill-effects, the father rushes over to the man and starts effusively thanking him.
"I've never seen anybody do anything like that before!" the father says. "It was fantastic! Are you a doctor?"
"Oh, good heavens, no," the man replies, taking another sip of his coffee. "I work for the Internal Revenue Service."
I thought this was cute – from Jay Leno, apparently:
"According to Buckingham Palace, the British royal family could be broke by 2012. That's what happens when nobody in your family has a job in 600 years."
As a painless way to save money, a young couple arranged that every time they have sex the husband puts his pocket change into a china piggy bank on the bedside table. One night while being unusually athletic, he accidentally knocked the piggy bank onto the floor where it smashes.
To his surprise, among the masses of coins, there are handfuls of twenty and fifty dollar bills. He asks his wife "What's up with all the bills?"
To which his wife replies, "Well, not everyone is as cheap as you are."