Crossword Conundrum – Help Me Oily George!

 

Ello Hoily,

Can you help? I am doing a crossword and I am stuck on 6 across.

The clue is “Things we chew our food with located in our mouths.” It has 5 letters and so far I have TE_TH – I am stumped. Any ideas?

Slow Dave, Hull

Dave,

The word I’m thinking of is tongue. It may not fit the crossword but I find it can fit just about anywhere else. Once you discover this fact for yourself your crossword will be totally redundant. Enjoy.

Oily

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Crosswords – Are They Evil? Bob On The Pot Reports

Hello

I was visiting my Nan yesterday to check on her taps. Apparently they were dripping.

She’s great my Nan. 128 smokes 40 a day, drinks her share and swears like a Scaffolder with piles.

Through the fug of cigarette smoke I found her sitting in her chair (the special one that tips up and vibrates -“me only pleasure now that Norman has gorn” as she puts it) watching a spot of daytime telly. I think it was “Bodies For Cash In The Attic” or something.

Shirley’s 5 bean chilli worked its magic and before I could display my DIY acumen, I needed the facilities. I took The Sun up with me and had a go at the Crossword. The coffee break one. 6 hours later I still had only got three answers (Egg, Tea and Roy Keane if you want to know).

Nan wasn’t too happy when I couldn’t fix her taps.

“Useless twat,” she called me, coughed a chesty smoker’s cough and brought up a gobful of phlegm which landed on me Reeboks.

Bit harsh I thought.

Laters

Bob

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Train Travel Tales #5

There is a line in a song that goes “Too much lovin’ drives a boy insane.” Great song by a great pop combo. Their name escapes me.

Too much tea drove me to the toilet.

I stumbled down the carriage, knocking into other passengers. I finally accepted that Olympic Gold on The Beam was folly.

I reached the toilet and opened the door.

He was sitting there. Trousers around his ankles. On his right knee was a tattoo of The Queen. On his left knee an inky effigy of Prince Phillip. A staunch Monarchist. Not to be messed with.

A newspaper was on his lap. I thanked my lucky stars that The Daily Telegraph is still a broadsheet.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Not at all,” he replied, “Actually, while you are here, could you help me with this clue?Two words, Seven and Five – an Ogre’s repast.”

“Monster Munch?” I replied.

“Great!” he said, “But that means that Aubergine can’t be correct.” He frowned.

I left him to ponder this conundrum and walked to the next cubicle, again knocking into people.  The cubicle was empty. I made sure the door was locked before I did me business.

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