Carol Singers

Peripheral

Dedicated Member
We had Carol Singers at the door last night. A very nice lady is Carol. She lives in the next street with a chap who has a wart on his left knee called Steven. I'm not sure whether his knee or the wart is called Steven. Personally I don't give my warts names, I just give them numbers. I'm telling you all this because number 17 is giving me a lot of bother. It's made itself at home right on the end of my hooter. I think it settled there because if I am out in the rain it can use my left nostril as a shelter. I don't know what it uses my right nostril for but every time I blow my nose I always finish up with a lot of toilet paper in my hanky. I was told that to cure it, I must go to Blackpool and lay on the beach with my nose in the sand just as the tide was going out. I lay there three hours, caught a cold, went home, sneezed and pebble dashed the dining room ceiling. I digress, you must be wanting to know why Carol Singers was knocking on our door. It seems that whilst making some mince pies she had knocked her currants on the floor just where her pet rabbits had been having a rave up. Being somewhat short sighted she could not distinguish the currants from the rabbit excreta so decided to come and see if my wife had any currants to spare. We only had a few left because only last week my wife had made a cake to celebrate her aunt Agatha's success in the backward hop skip and high jump on Loch Ness. She was later disqualified for wearing inflatable knickers which she filled with helium for extra lift. Unfortunately, during the event she suffered a massive gastric problem and was last seen speeding across the Loch astride Nessie singing
Good King Wencelas arse stuck out
On the feast of Steven.

Merry/Happy Christmas.
 
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