3523. A place in history

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Every member of the Society for the Preservation of the Memorial Hall were on the edge of their seats. The Memorial Hall was in the centre of town and had proudly stood there for over a hundred years. Who was the person who confronted the demolition bulldozer as it headed for the hall? Who was the man who bravely stood in front of the bulldozer’s blade and got shoved under the tracks ending his life? Who was the martyr for the cause? Who will go down in history as the one who save the Memorial Hall? For save it he certainly did – at least temporarily: all work on its demolition was paused.

It took several days for the police to release his name. It was Lambert Baff. No one had ever heard of him. It seems he wasn’t even a member of the Society for the Preservation of the Memorial Hall. His wife confirmed that he wasn’t a member; he was simply taking a shortcut on his way to the shop to buy some sugar.

The whole affair was a great let-down. When the Memorial Hall was eventually demolished and a replacement erected a motion was presented to have a memorial plaque honouring Lambert Baff. The motion failed.

3522. Medical advice for oldies

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My name is Doctor Bendall and I’d like to share with you this health advice I have discovered after having worked with thousands of patients over the years. For those of you over sixty-five this is a miracle solution.

It is to do with hearing. Don’t bother about hearing aids! Once you hit sixty-five hearing begins to deteriorate for a lot of people. It really is nothing to be concerned about. In fact, it is something that can perhaps be rejoiced over.

My advice is to eat as many beans, prunes, and pickled onions as you like. You can flatulate to your heart’s content and you won’t hear a single person complain.

3521. Homemade table

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Dante was a wizard when it came to furniture making. At least he thought so. His wife wasn’t so sure, but then it kept him out from under her feet most weekends as he went out to his Man Cave and messed about with wood.

They needed a new dining table. It was cheaper to buy a table than to purchase timber. But Dante declared it to be more satisfying to sit at and eat from one’s own creation. A home-made table it was to be!

The table took four weekends to make, which was fairly quick given the intricacies of some of the woodwork.

That was eight years ago. Occasionally, like every few months, Dante’s wife replaces the folded-up piece of cardboard under one of the legs to stop the table from wobbling.

3520. Rasputin clone

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There must be something in the Russian genes. Remember Rasputin? He refused to die. They couldn’t kill him. He was stabbed in the stomach. He was poisoned, shot, beaten, and drowned.  Three shots from a revolver finished him off eventually.

My girlfriend’s Russian. I’m sure she must be descended from Rasputin. She seems immune to everything. I just might have to resort to the same fatal solution that finished Rasputin off. Usually it doesn’t take this long.

3519. Debit bank card

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I paid a considerable amount of money to a dealer down a back street to get the stuff to put in the beer of the multimillionaire that frequents the same pub as me. I’m not without quite a bit of money myself, but to put it plainly, I’m not above getting some more. This is how I made my money in the first place. I’d get a “client” all drowsy, “borrow” his bank card, and ask for the pin number. After getting quite a bit out of “the hole in the wall” I’d return the card. The “client” would sober up, think he’d had too much to drink, and couldn’t recall what he did with the money he took out.

I’ve done that sixty or seventy times but I’ve run out of stuff so I had to go to this guy in the back street again to get some more of the truth serum. He’s a fairly simply fellow. Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth and yet he sells this stuff. In fact, I’m not sure if I’m not his only customer.

He’s a convivial sort of a chap. He always offers me a cup of tea. He doesn’t have to but he’s that kind of person. I always refuse, but this time I said “That would be nice” and he poured us both a nice cup of tea and I went on my way.

Now I’m in the pub and have put the stuff in the multimillionaire’s beer. He’s gone all drowsy and given me his password number, and I’m off to the “hole in the wall” to get a dividend. First I’ve got to pay for my own beer but I can’t find my debit bank card. I know I had it when I paid the guy in the back street.

3518. Zucchinis

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John was a keen gardener although he wasn’t very good at it. But he was good enough to grow a few vegetables. He sowed seven zucchini (courgette) seeds and all germinated. The packet said that two zucchini plants would be enough for a single household and to pull out the weakest and just leave a couple of the strongest seedlings. They all looked pretty good, and John didn’t have the heart to destroy healthy plants.

Before long he began to get seven zucchinis a day and then fourteen, and then twenty or thirty. He grilled some on the barbeque, and threw some into a stew. Then he made some zucchini bread. He got the recipe off a neighbour who got a paper bag of fresh zucchinis.

Then John let some grow into marrows – big marrows about two feet long – and if you stuffed them with ground meat they were delicious… or so the neighbour said. But they were just a watery mess. John scraped the meat out and threw the marrow away.

He found a zucchini soup recipe online, and so easy to make. He made a pot full, and froze some for the winter. He still had zucchinis coming out his ears. When he took some to the weekend market in town every vegetable stall was inundated with zucchinis. No one wanted them – not even the pig farmer.

Zucchinis! Zucchinis! Zucchinis! John just let them do their thing. They could rot in the ground and he’d dig them in. The things was, from the beginning he hated zucchinis but thought they looked pretty in the garden.

3517. The genie

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Thjhis idjiot – idiot – he undid the cork – pulled the cork out – you get my meaning. Thjhis idjiot – let me out of the bottle and wanted three wishes. I am a genie so I grant three whishes to the pershon what pulls out the cork in the boddle.

But there are different genies – I have to get back into the bottle between each whish. And the cork has to be pulled out again.

Well, thjhis idjiot asked for the stupidest whishes. He wanted a car, and a house, and a girlfriend. I found what he wanted but they’re all ugly. Ugly as shite. He wasn’t pleased and refused to let me get back in the bottle after the third whish until I produced something butter.

So I had to find a bottle that already had its cork out and hare I am in this boddle and being you-s’d by thjhis idjiot who thinkks he’ll git free more whishes whiff the new boddle. But I’m drowning in brandy.

I thinkk this boddle’s bedder than my oregain.. orehangaan… original boddle, don’t you?

3516. Amorous chitchat

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Of course, Rayleen, when I met you I fell instantly in love. It was love at first sight. It was at a birthday party for Steve’s twentieth. You weren’t like any of the other girls there. You wore a green dress whereas they were all in jeans and stuff. And you had that amazing jade brooch. You hardly ever wear it now. I haven’t seen you wear it in ages. It was like you were standing in a meadow of flowers.

From the second we met I knew you were the one. We’ve been going out now for about…. What?… six months? So Rayleen I suppose we could almost call ourselves a couple. Everybody else seems to think we’re a couple. Even my parents like you.

My mother says she can’t get over the fact that I fell head over heels for a girl wearing a respectable dress and a brooch! It was the very thing, I told my mother, that I noticed when I walked into the room. I said Mum, Rayleen is not like everybody else.

Rayleen: That wasn’t me in the green dress. That was Lillian.

3515. White Dahlia Award

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Year after year Sage had won the White Dahlia Award (a dahlia flower trophy made of bronze) at the annual Flower Show. This riled Rufus immensely, because year after year he had got second place. There was no bronze White Dahlia Award for getting second. It had taken seven years but at last vengeance caught up with Rufus. He would win that bronze trophy no matter the cost.

In the end his plan was quite simple. He would take a pin, a little pin from his late mother’s sewing kit, and prick a petal of Sage’s prize dahlia. Such a savage fate achieved by something so small! A pin prick in the opposition’s petal and the bronze White Dahlia Award would go to Rufus.

Of course it took a little bit of planning to get to Sage’s prize dahlia before the judges arrived to judge. But determination achieves reward. The pin prick was done. And next to it sat Rufus’ prize dahlia awaiting judgement.

The judges’ decision had been made. The decision was announced. Sage’s dahlia got first despite have a slight blemish (just a pin prick) on one of the petals. Rufus’ dahlia got second despite have a slight blemish (just a pin prick) on one of the petals. “It wasn’t there when I brought the dahlia in,” said Rufus.

Sage smiled coyly and said she was delighted to humbly accept the bronze White Dahlia Award for the eighth year in a row.

3514. Summer sunshine

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In early spring the local supermarket gave out little packets of sunflower seeds. “Make summer a happier place. Grow a sunflower!”

“Why not?”  thought Thora. Thora wasn’t much of a gardener. She had a garden shed where she kept her lawnmower and that was it. But why not bring a little ray of summer joy by poking in a few seeds of sunflowers? She pressed them into the soil along the side of her garden shed.

Would you believe? They sprouted! Thora was tickled pink. She watered them meticulously. They grew taller and taller. Then one, and then another, developed a flower bud. Within a few days all the flowers began to show. Thora was as pleased as punch.

There wasn’t a visitor came whom Thora didn’t show her sunflowers to. “Sunflowers bring such joy,” declared Thora gesturing to her treasures.

“They’re not very big,”  declared the first.

“Something’s been eating the leaves,” said the second. “Have you snails?”

“The wall of the shed behind is pretty dirty,” said the third.

“I’m not much into flowers,” said the fourth.

Anyway, the following year when the supermarket handed out sunflower seeds Thora said she couldn’t be bothered.