...horrifically mangled corpses of young men. Fine, strong young men, called to do their duty. Fine gardeners all! But no good as bomb disposal experts. Oh well! That reminds me, one of them was called Jimmy and his last words to me were...
..Miss Farquar-Harrington, the geography teacher, she always used to lean over our shoulders to explain something but we could never hear a thing as her ample bosom used to muffle our ears. She also used to have terrible BO which she tried to disguise with cheap perfume from Woolworth which used to smell of aniseed. I think it was called...
...Shmoo or somthing like that! The other thing about Miss Farquar-Harrington that springs to mind was her amazing quiff of black greasy hair. It was thought that she got the idea for it from....
...written by a meat eater with a twisted sense of humour. The recipe for Tofu with chick peas and black bean sauce, for example, included lamb's eyes, pig's trotters and...
...refused to ignite properly. That was when I knew there was something fishy about the recipe (besides the shark steak and cans of tuna) as I never previously had a problem with incendiary cooking, whether purposely or no. I earned the Pulitzer Prize for my letter of complaint to that magazine, which of course...
That Dennis the Menace had already thought of that scam. Ah, well! Returning for a moment to Mr Llewelyn, the local bookie. I sems like only yesterday that I found that £50 note outside the Labour Exchange and nipped in to the betting shop and placed £25 each way on Foinavon in the Grand National. How we celebrated that night (all except Mr Llewelyn, that is), down at the Aligator and Ferret. Why, that was when I first discovered that....
... conduct myself in a manner befitting my regal status; unfortunately, shortly after making everyone in the pub kneel before me, I passed out. The next morning ...
...it was all over the tabloids that I had the makings of a fine Russian leader in me. Unfortunately, it was also all over the broadsheets that some Bolshevik Fundamentalists wished to claim my life in the name of eternal communism, so then and there I had to...
...take up dancing. I'd had ballet lessons as a youngster so I thought, the Bolshevik's could use a good dancer in the Bolshoi. Heck, even the names are similar. So I wrote away for a tutu. Imagine my surprise when the postman arrived one day, accompanied by...
..-flavoured pants. This disturbing state of affairs led directly (in my and my psychiatrist Dr Syncope's opinion) to the terrible events that followed. Even now, I still get terrible flashbacks, and even worse, I still can't wash the taste from my mouth, no matter how many pints of Creme de Menthe I drink! Though I shudder to say it...
...Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, I was immediately taken by the changes there. The old bank is now a yuppy wine bar and full of insufferable dinkies slurping back glasses of Rhondda chardonnay and talking about their Christmas bonuses. Now, in the old days, the bank was only full of farmers depositing their EU grant cheques and talking about the price of sheep. Those were the best times, but now, you see, things have moved on and even...
...to deposit my grandfather. Despite the protestations of the bored 16-year-old behind the counter, and of dear old Pappy himself in fact, I handed over my Next Day Embalming coupon, and...
due to dodgy cross breeding and a poor blood line had the misfortune of running around in ever decreasing circles, for most of the time. But as luck would have it...
...I thought I recognised the winning horse, and as it turned out, I was the tall and attractive german stable-lad who had raised it all those years ago. Pulling up my shorts, I strode over to the jockey, who it turned out also recognised me from our schooldays. We've been married for three years now, and last month we celebrated the birth of our first...
...foal, bred from our two thoroughbreds, Far Canal and Hoof Hearted. We are still trying to think of a suitable ame to register with the Jockey Club. Have you any suggestions? We did think of calling him...
..an interesting proposition from Julian Clary. Meanwhile, the stable boy had just come into the bar and was giving "dead cert" tips to anyone who would buy him a drink. Apparently, up on the gallops, the word was that Jeff....
the cameras hidden by the Beadle's About crew were still rolling. Sadly, after the swearing was edited out there was only about three seconds of broadcastable material and Beadle ended up
miming to the soundtrack of 'Tommy' just to keep the audience entertained! Well that’s about all for now, I've got a bus to catch. Apparently there is some sort of "pilgrimage" I am rather keen to attend. I understand we are going to be playing rugby at Mornington Crescent. Or have I got that wrong?